Physically Whole, Mentally Broken
by TheFluidThespian
Summary: Gary Sanderson was just like any other soldier in war. He fights for his queen and country. He knows that any day could be his last, yet he always lives to fight another battle. As hard as it is to win the war in the real world, it's much more of a challenge to be fighting the one within him. (Rated M - Details inside)
1. Chapter One

**Hey. I'm back with another story (Similar to Never Too Late, but "extended"). The story is going to be a little different from the MW2 timeline, and I would like to make a few warnings before you go on reading this. The story will contain mentions of depression, self harm, and suicide (TRIGGER WARNING).**

* * *

"Welcome to the 141, soldier," General Shepherd looked at the FNG, holding out his hand to twenty-year-old-Gary Sanderson, "The best hand picked group of brothers on the planet."

"It's an honor, sir," Gary shook his superior's hand.

"You're by far the youngest man we've had, but all we need is your strength. Think it's something you can give us?"

"Yes. Definitely, sir."

"Good. You'll be meeting your captain and team shortly, and when that's done, you can get comfortable."

Gary nodded, looking back out the window of the chopper as it flew over a dry and empty desert. It had not been too long ago since he was out on the frontlines, fighting to protect his brothers that were right alongside him. He was still covered in dirt and sweat, and he could still feel his heart beating as if he were running a marathon. So being out of the war zone was something to adjust to, even though it still felt as if he was still outside being shot at or blown up. But no. He's far from that, and all that could be heard was the ambient sound of the chopper's propellers. Though despite that sound being the filler of silence, it seemed as if Gary's racing thoughts were much louder.

But it wasn't those kind of thoughts like, _What will the team think of me,_ or _what will the captain be like?_ Instead, Gary's mind was still on the war he's been fighting for at least half a year. He knew that war can cost a limb, a paralysis, or even his life. But it never occurred to him what war can do to his mind. The truth, he found it more agonizing than being pierced with a hot bullet. Every night, he can't sleep through his nightmares. When he closes his eyes, the images of his fallen brothers and their last shouts fill his empty thoughts. The thoughts of what he could've done to be a better soldier corrupt his mind, ultimately making him feel as if he were carrying a burden full of guilt. Yet somehow he manages to find himself living and fighting another day.

* * *

Gary's eyes were forward on the man in front of him, who was reading the file on his desk. While it was silent, the sergeant took a look at the features he had. His brown hair was cut into a Mohawk, scratched down on his left eye was a fading scar, and the color of his eyes were a bright shade of blue. According to Shepherd, this man would be one of Gary's new captain.

 _John Mactavish,_ He remembered correctly.

"Seems like you'll make helluva good soldier, Sanderson," His captain tore his eyes away from the file and addressed the younger man, "Did they call you anything when you were in the SAS?"

Gary looked into his dark blue eyes, "Like a callsign?"

"Aye."

"Oh, er- yeah. It's Roach."

"Roach?"

The younger man nodded, "Yes, sir."

"So you're like a hard bastard to kill then, eh?"

Gary pursed his lips, gazing back down at his bony hands, "M'yeah. Pretty much."

John sat up straight, "Okay then. After you're dismissed, you can go regroup with the lads down in the rec room. They're pretty eager to meet you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it."

As Gary left the office, John flipped to the next page which contained the sergeant's background information. Midway through the paragraph, it started to explain Gary's previous condition with depression and how he was off of antidepressants for almost two years. It didn't really seem to bother John until he got to the last section of the page-

 _"In the event of an operation that took place a few months ago, one team, as a result, were ambushed and shot before they had a chance to regroup with the rest of their brothers. However, Sanderson was the only one who survived, and we've since then have kept a closer eye on him. As research shows, soldiers who've suffered a traumatic experience results in issues with their mental health. Despite several night terrors after the operation, Sanderson has expressed no signs of being mentally unstable. However, he has caught a case of survivor's guilt since then, yet he still seems able to perform tasks without a problem."_

 _Well, just as long as the lad can shoot and fight, I guess there isn't anything to worry about,_ John thought as he closed up the file.

It wasn't until later in the evening when the captain met up with his pack of rowdy wolves for their evening meal, and among them it seemed as if Gary was handling their energy rather well. By that, it really meant that he kept his distance away from them and minded his own business at the far end of the table. His food was sitting across from him, untouched as his eyes were focused on his black leather journal instead, writing words that only he was allowed to see. The sergeant reminded John of his second-in-command in a sort of way, after all Simon Riley was too, a bit of an antisocial person as well. Though John didn't bother to mingle with Gary, but he was close enough to see the green shade in his eyes.

Not once did he tear his attention away from the sergeant. He just wanted to get a better look at him. Gary didn't appear to be too muscular, compared to his teammates he was rather slender and scrawny. In other words, his figure just seemed a little feminine. He was still tall, but it just looked as if he wouldn't be able to carry his own teammate across the field with that kind of body build.

The next thing John noticed was how Gary's hand was lightly trembling. A muscle in the sergeant's jaw twitched and he swallowed hard before closing up his journal hard enough that John could hear the noise it made. The others didn't seem to pay attention, but the captain still kept his gaze on Gary, seeing how the focus in those green eyes faded into a mix of weariness and guilt. Then when he looked over to face his team, his fatigued eyes only met John's blue ones. But all he gave was a small smile and a nod. John nodded in response, though the contact was broken off quickly, and Gary's expression returned to looking like his dog died.

The superior only looked away, taking his shot of vodka before resuming to take his thoughts elsewhere. But when he did think, all he could think about was the shadows he saw in Gary's eyes. It was the look of someone who's fighting for more than just his queen and country.

It was the look of someone who's battling more than two wars.

* * *

 **Update: Going through this to edit some typos and other mistakes. Hopefully it'll be better for the next person who reads this xp**


	2. Chapter Two

Gary inhaled, letting the smoke from his cigarette fill his lungs. He held it in, before letting out a heavy sigh and allowing the smoke to leave his mouth. He never enjoyed the taste of smoke, and beforehand he thought it was pretty damn disgusting. But when he breathed in those chemicals for the first time, it gave him a reason to keep doing it over and over every night. For the most part, it kept his head high and his thoughts elsewhere. The cigarette was at the point where it couldn't be smoked anymore.

Gary took it out of his mouth, looking at the burning tip for a short second before pulling his sleeve up just a little bit with his pinky and ring finger. From there, he pressed the burning ash against one spot on his skin. Gary bit down on his lip, but kept the cigarette pressed up against his arm until he felt nothing at all. The small searing pain faded away, and he let the cigarette fall from his fingers. He stepped and smeared it on the ground, putting it out for good. He raised his arm to get a better look at the mark he made. Gary knew it was pretty fucked up of him to be doing something like this, after all it wasn't his first time burning himself with a cigarette. But every time he did it, the pain gave him a reminder that he was still living. At the same time, it was relieving, since that stinging burn would release the stress he holds on the inside.

No one knew Gary did this. No one knew that every night, he'd burn himself to feel; To have the knowledge that he wasn't dead and numb. Even if they did see pain in his eyes, he'd simply say he was _fine_. But it was true, and he meant it. He was _okay_. "Sanderson!" Gary quickly rolled down his sleeve before turning his head to address where his captain's voice was coming from.

"Captain..."

"What're you doing here, mate?" John approached Gary, crossing his arms, "It's after hours. Everyone's already turned in for the night."

"Oh, I apologize, sir. I was just finishing up a smoke."

John was obviously not in the mood for excuses.

"Well, I-I guess I'll be on my way now. Goodnight, sir."

The sergeant quickly made his way past his superior, returning to the barracks, where he shared a room with someone named, Royce. Gary never got a chance to know much about him, other than the fact that he's American. Royce already seemed dead asleep, and he still had the scent of alcohol radiating off of him. Gary didn't bother dressing into his nightly attire, he just collapsed on his bed, turning on his side to face the wall. Although while his body longed for sleep, his mind and energy kept his eyes open. Gary rolled up his sleeve that hid the small burn marks, then he applied pressure to the new one. He felt the pain, not the same as before, but he _felt it_. With that, he felt the adrenaline leave his body, and he could finally relax.

* * *

"God, my fucking head..." Royce groaned, rubbing his forehead as if he could somehow make the migraine go away.

"How much did you drink last night?" Gary questioned, taking his eyes off his book to put them on his hungover roommate.

"It was only a few shots. It seemed pretty harmless."

"Well, that's what a 'few shots' can do to you."

Royce couldn't help but laugh, after all this was a man who was at least five years younger than him, "And how would you know what it does to you? You're what, seventeen? Eighteen? Still pretty young to be drinking."

"Nineteen," Gary corrected his age, "And I don't need to be drinking to know what it sort of effects it has."

"Oi, Sanderson!" The sergeant turned around, only to be facing a much taller man in a skull mask. It was his XO, in other words, his lieutenant. "Yes sir?" Gary questioned, standing up.

"We need you in the briefing room. Now."

The younger man nodded, closing his book and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. He followed Simon Riley, who they all addressed as Ghost, down the hall and into a small office, which the walls all were covered with maps, photos, and sticky notes with short messages on them. Standing around the table in the middle was John and Shepherd. "Sanderson," The oldest began, "You've only been here for a few days and you're still warming up. But do you think you're up for something a little bit physical?"

"Always, sir," Gary nodded.

"That's what I like to hear. Captain, give him a little overview of this assignment."

"Aye," John pointed to a pinned point on the map laid out on the table, "There's an airbase up in Kazakhstan. As of right now, they've been keeping hold of a module from a downed satellite. We need to get our hands on it before they mess around with what it contains."

"What's the catch?"

"We have to be stealthy for this one. We'll be infiltrating this base filled with men armed to the teeth. If compromised, feel free to go hot."

"Understood, sir."

"Think it's something you can handle?"

"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."

"Excellent. Then gear up and dress warm. We'll leave in 30 minutes."

* * *

It felt endless as they scaled up the icy walls of Kazakhstan. Any step missed on this long climb would result in death, and whenever Gary looked down to see how high they were, he'd wonder what it'd feel like if he were just to fall and let death take him. As Gary pulled himself onto a small ledge in the wall, he let out a steamy breath. John was beside him, pulling out a pack of cigars from his pocket and offering one to the younger man, who nodded and accepted it. For the next few seconds, they said nothing to each other. All that was heard was the winter wind and the flicking lighter John had in his hand. After lighting the flame, he lit both cigars. They still remained silent to each other, and Gary looked down to see the height they've just climbed up.

 _What if I just fell forward right now?_

 _How long would it be until I hit the bottom?_

 _Would it hurt?_

 _Would it be worth it?_

He blew out the smoke, closing his eyes for a short moment. _God dammit,_ He thought, _Stop thinking like that, you idiot. You're fucking fine._

"How're you feeling, mate?" John looked over at the FNG, and Gary looked back, "I'm alright."

"You've been quiet. But you seemed pretty confident earlier."

For a moment, the younger man blinked, thinking of something to say, "Oh, uh... It's really nothing to worry about, captain. I guess I'm just..." Suddenly, the loud roar of fighter jets flew over their heads. Gary gasped for a minute, keeping his breath in until the roaring faded away.

"You're what?"

Gary was once again silent for a moment, debating on what words to describe his emotions. _No. He can't know. He doesn't even need to know._ "It's r-really nothing, sir," He finally said, "I just think a lot about how I'm going to help you out on this."

"Mm," John exhaled his breath of smoke, "Just stay close and try not to die."

Gary only smiled (painfully) and nodded, "Understood, sir."


	3. Chapter Three

_It was almost difficult to see with the snow blowing in his eyes, but Gary could see he was almost see he was getting closer to the hangar John was talking about. He couldn't sworn he was getting a frostbite on his wrist as he felt nothing but numbness. The snow was all of a sudden gone as he approached the hangar, and running out of the entrance was Mactavish, "Took the scenic route, eh?" Gary only exhaled a steamy breath, slightly annoyed, but followed his superior into the hangar, which was just as cold as being outside. Coming from around the corner was an enemy look out, whose last moments were spent watching John stab a knife into his throat._

 _Gary shivered, just imagining how it must feel to choke on steel and blood. He followed John into the main hangar, the captain ordering, "Go upstairs and look for the ACS Module."_

 _Gary went up the steps, which made a metallic sound whenever with every step he took. After that, he dashed right into a heated room which contained empty boxes, worn out maps, and old computers. Laying on the desk ahead, the ACS Module. Just as he laid his hands on it, he heard the hangar doors open. Oh fuck…_

 _He stuffed the module in his pack and rushed out to see the situation, though he immediately slowed down as John notified, "Roach, I've been compromised. Keep a low profile and hold your fire."_

 _Gary crouched down a bit, walking out of the room only to see John with his hands up in surrender, and standing outside was almost the entire army base._

 _"Oh shit..." The sergeant said under his breath._

 _"Roach, go to plan B."_

 _Plan B? Oh, the C4s!_

 _Gary pulled out he detonator, listening to as the enemy outside started counting from five. Five seconds to live._

 _"Five."_

 _Just a little more._

 _"Four."_

 _This is gonna be nasty._

 _"Three."_

 _Gary squeezed down on the detonator._

 _"Two."_

 _But the sound of explosions weren't heard._

 _"One."_

 _The army of men opened fire, and John was shot down with a body full of bullets. It felt as if every breath in Gary's lungs was taken away. He heard nothing, not being able to move as the enemies began searching the area. He heard nothing but his own rapid pulse, which grew louder and louder as his surroundings faded to black._

* * *

 _"Roach!"_ The voice seemed distant, but it grew near within a second, "R-Roach, wake up!"

Gary's eyes shot open as he felt himself being shaken by someone unknown, or it seemed to be that way. Until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the room, he saw Royce looming above him, his hands on his shoulders as he stopped shaking the younger man. "Jesus, man. You alright? You were mumbling and crying in your sleep."

Gary sat up, rubbing his eyes and feeling that they were filled with warm tears, his body trembling, "I... Uh... I'm okay, I guess..."

"You sure, 'cause... You look really shaken up."

"I'm fine. Sorry for waking you."

"Man, I was already up. I was about to wake your ass until you started rambling."

Gary didn't say another word as he slipped from the covers, got dressed, and joined everyone else for warm up drills. Though as they ran laps around the base, the sergeant felt as if his surroundings were disoriented; That at any second he'd fall onto the cement ground from fatigue, or maybe fall through it. The group of joggers came to a sudden stop as they heard the sound of a loud whistle being blown.

"Fall in line!" The XO shouted at them, and the group of men got in line, Gary being on the far end as the dizziness flooded his mind.

"Roach! Eyes forward!"

Gary looked back up, breathing heavily through his nose as his lungs still burned and cramped after running endless laps. Ghost looked at the sergeant before walking up to him, rather than shouting at him like he always does, he firmly spoke, "Mactavish said your performance on yesterday's mission was impressive. For someone your age to handle at least."

Gary's eyes widened a bit, speaking almost in a whisper, "H-He's alive...?"

At that moment for all Gary knew, Ghost could've been giving him the most confusing look behind his skull mask, "Well of course he's alive, where've you been? Mars?"

Gary held back the sigh of relief, both from knowing that his captain was alive and Ghost had dismissed his comment. "All of you go wash up. We'll meet up at the pit in an hour!" The lieutenant dismissed them, and they all jogged back to the showers.

While under the running cool water, Gary mentally slapped himself as yesterday's mission came back to his empty mind, recalling how he and John made it out alive by riding snowmobiles. _Fuck, now I can't even tell the false from the real. And I was actually dumb enough to ask if Mactavish was fucking alive._

Gary looked up, letting the water hit his face, contemplating his mental state and whether he should inform it to anyone before he passes his breaking point.


	4. Chapter Four

**Sorry if this chapter is a little boring. I'm sort of losing inspiration to write anything, but hopefully I can do a little better for the next update.**

* * *

Days grew into weeks, and the number of assignments already began to shrink. Though that didn't mean the 141 got a day off. No. Their routine was the same. Run laps around the base, shower off, meet at the shooting range for further training, and after that they'd have the entire afternoon to themselves. Though for Gary, his habits of keeping his shit together grew worse and worse. He'd isolate himself very often that at one point he forgot how to say a simple hello to one of his team mates. The night terrors progressed to the point where he couldn't even go to sleep without having to imagine what his inner demons had planned for him every night. But if, with some luck, he did go to sleep, he didn't want to wake up.

A cigarette couldn't help clear his brain anymore, not even if he smoked an entire pack. However, the habit of planting burns on his arm still continued. All he needed was the lighter, and from there he'd hold the flame up against his arm, burning the small hairs off his skin and leaving a reddening mark. No one would notice. Though they found it a little odd that the sergeant would constantly wear long sleeved shirts in the unbearable heat of Afghanistan. His excuse, "I get cold easily." But if anyone were to notice the weariness in his eyes, they'd always let it go when Gary would say a simple lie such as, "Just tired," or (and this is his favorite one to use), "I'm okay."

* * *

It got to the point where dark circles were almost visible almost Gary's eyes, but somehow to Mactavish's surprise, no one would question it. Most likely because they'd see how much energy the sergeant would have, revealing that he wasn't tired at all, or so it seemed. John kept a closer eye on Gary, and all he observed was the same behavior and personality. Loyal, energetic, witty, and once in awhile being a complete goofball. Sometimes he'd see that fatigued version of the sergeant, who was more vulnerable when revealing emotions and giving away that maybe he wasn't okay despite saying that he was.

It came as no surprise to him that Gary wore that kind of 'emotional mask'. After all he's seen it since he got a better look at those broken green eyes. It expresses it all; Pain. What makes him especially wary about this is how Gary stays silent about it. It's almost as if whenever he's near him, he _feels_ it. He feels the weight the sergeant carries on his shoulders. Followed by that, a hurricane of emotions such as guilt and hopelessness. John can recall feelings like these, though it was only back when he was still a raw fighter; Back when he was new to witnessing the death of close friends as well as other soldiers he was forced to shoot. He was quick to learn that living with guilt isn't going to make his life any better. But would that mean Gary would soon learn too? Will he learn to drop the weight he carries?

John tried not to think about it too much, but his concerns for the sergeant stayed where they were. Though as of right now, it didn't seem like he had anything to worry about regarding Gary. He sat in the same place in the rec room, writing words that would remain unknown to everyone around him. Some of the men were either playing pool, cards, or very few were on their laptops.

Royce sat next to Gary on the couch, his eyes squinted in focus before they widened with slight horror.

"Oh my god..." He murmured.

The younger man next to him gave him a look, "What is it?"

"The airport in Moscow, look." Royce turned his laptop over so Gary could look at what was being shown on the screen. It was a grainy video, but he could clearly see what was happening in the footage. Five men stepped out from an elevator, armed with heavy machine guns. Then right on sight, they opened fire the innocent people in front of them. Gary could feel his stomach twist at the sight of blood flying from the men and women. There was no sound to be heard, and Gary could imagine and hear the screams of horror as the news clip repeated itself, the only thing he couldn't feel was the emotion that every person was most likely feeling from the moment they realized they were about to die.

"It's fucking crazy," Royce commented, his eyes were on the video instead of on Gary, who had a disgusted look in his eyes.

"Yeah..." The sergeant swallowed, feeling a load of bile going back into his stomach, "Um... I think I need a minute."

"Woah, Roach where're you going? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Gary quickly left the rec room, a wave of nausea crashing into his head. He placed a hand against the wall to support his balance. The emotions he now felt were a mix of panic and shock. Watching those lives, innocent lives, being taken only reminded Gary of how he watched his team die. They were soldiers, but nonetheless they were still innocent and young. Then here he was. Alive. But not well.

Gary heard the door swing open, and out stepped the captain, "Everything alright with you, sergeant?"

"Yes," He nodded, standing up straight, "Uh, I just needed breathe for a bit."

"Do you want me to leave you alone or...-"

"N-No, sir. Feel free to talk to me, or at least... Stand out here and..." Gary trailed off, realizing how stupid he must've sounded.

"Hm," John chuckled once before moving on, "The news is spreading quickly in there. About Moscow."

"I left too soon. I understand what happened but... Who do think would cause that kind of massacre?"

"Russians."

"Oh, you really were straight-forward with that guess-"

"We've been fighting them for nearly five years, Roach. Five years we've tried taking down that same man who threatened to spill blood that wasn't his."

"Mm, sounds like a tricky bastard."

"Damn right. But the chaos is only getting started. No doubt Shepherd's gonna send the Rangers out to blow some shit up."

"Well, that's what we'll be doing too. But it's gonna be maybe a little tougher."

"Something you can't handle?"

Gary faked a laugh, "Hell no. I'll be ready. You can count on that, sir."


	5. Chapter Five

More information was released on the airport massacre in Moscow. Mactavish was right. Russians were behind it. More specifically, Vladimir Makarov, the man they've been hunting for five years. For Gary, it felt like he was living under a rock for that long because he had no fucking idea who he was other than the fact that he was a terrorist. He was clueless about the other crimes he's committed and what purpose he did them for. If there was one thing he did know, it was that he and the entire 141 had a trip to Rio de Janeiro. Despite the intense humidity in the air, Gary still kept his thick sleeves rolled down.

For the past thirty minutes or so, they've been driving and following the same van all over the city. The people in front of them were too looking for the same man. Alejandro Rojas, a weapons dealer who aided Makarov for the massacre, which meant once they find him, he's their ticket to the Russian bastard. The white van pulled up in front of a large apartment building. Mactavish was keeping the team updated in the back (Mostly Ghost), and he notified, "Wait. They've stopped again. Standby."

Stepping out of the building was a man in a black t-shirt and shorts, and the men in the vehicle stepped out as well. "Got a positive ID," John spoke again, "Whoever these guys are, they're not happy to see him."

Gary should've expected there would be chaos in this assignment, but he didn't expect to see it so quickly as the man being approached pulled out a handgun and shot his targets right in the guts. Blood sprayed out of their bodies, far enough that it touched the van, and Gary sat up, his eyes widening to see the gun was being aimed at them. "Get down! Get down!" John shouted, as their man shot at the window of their car. The sergeant ducked just in time as the bullets broke through the glass, but along with the shards he also saw and felt blood touch his face and hair. To his realization, he saw that the driver collapsed against the wheel, motionless and bloody. Gary didn't have time to throw up as his captain shouted, "He's getting away! Roach let's go!"

The younger man kicked the door open and followed John into the streets. The sound of shots being fired caused mayhem as screaming civilians ran anxiously away from the danger. Nearby, there was already a nasty car wreck. Though Gary was finally snapped back into focus when he heard Ghost join the chase, shouting, "He went into the alley!"

"Non-lethal takedowns only!" Gary almost couldn't hear John's orders over the sound of men and women screaming in panic. But he followed their target into the shadows of the alley, hearing John loud and clear this time, "Roach- Take the shot! Go for his leg!"

Gary quickly aimed down his sight, squeezing the trigger and taking down the man ahead. He huffed, relieved that he didn't fuck up.

* * *

"Roach, this is going to take some time," Gary tried to keep his eyes on John, considering that behind him, Ghost was sparking car battery cables, his favorite method of torture. "Go with Meat and Royce and check the favela for any sign of Rojas - that's where this guy was headed."

Gary nodded once and gave his superior a thumbs up before John shut the garage door to prevent anyone else observing the interrogation. From there, Gary joined up with his team mates who were waiting ahead. "Let's go," Royce began, "Remember - there are civilians in the favela out there. Watch your fire."

As they went deeper into the alley, they approached a rusty fence and on the other side was the favela, the side of Brazil that was made of cement and steel sheets. Meat went through an open part of the fence and fired his gun in the air all while shouting, "Este lugar não é seguro!" From there, people with no weapon ran away while men who were armed with a gun and grenades moved forward and engaged in the battle that was started. Gary got behind an old car that looked like it hadn't been driven in a long time.

The three men were left fighting a village of militia. It gave Gary a slight feeling of panic that would lapse every minute, and the feeling began to grow as they went further into the favela. The number of men firing down at them from the rooftops and ground was overwhelming for the younger man, and as he approached Meat to shoot enemies by his side, who was soon met with blood sprayed on his face, Meat dropping his gun to clutch his throat only to collapse and choke on his blood. "Oh shit! Meat's down!" Gary gasped, leaping behind cover as a storm of bullets headed his way.

"Roach, get your ass over to here! I see you!" Royce shouted, and Gary obeyed, running through open-doored homes, shooting men that shot at him. They were close to the next area of the village. Though at the last minute, just when they thought they got through the first wave of militia, more stormed in from the rooftops, bringing hellfire that only Gary survived as Royce cried out, "Roach! I'm hit!"

"Oh fuck...!" Before the sergeant reached out to drag his team mate out, a burning bullet was shot firmly into his arm. He cried out shortly before retreating into the empty alley, holding his arm close to his chest until the sound of shouts and gunfire faded. He stayed low in the shadows as he crouched down, biting down on his lip to prevent his painful breaths from leaving his mouth. He breathed heavily as he slowly and reluctantly lowered his arm in front of him so he could get a better look at the wound.

"God..." He raised his sleeve up just a little bit. There wasn't an exit wound, which was good for him because then he wasn't losing blood so quickly. But damn, it fucking hurt.

"Roach - We've got Rojas' location!" John shouted over the comms, already he was still on a commotion with the enemies ahead, "He's headed west along the upper levels of the favela!"

"On my way... _Dammit..._ " Gary hissed.

"We'll keep him from doubling back on our side - keep going and cut him off at the top!"

"Sir, Meat and Royce are down."

"There's no time for backup. You're gonna have to do this on your own. Good luck. Out."

Gary stood back up, inhaling another shaky breath as he made his way deeper into the alley passing by what seemed like a basketball court. Though midway through, he almost screamed as a German Shepherd put his paws up against the fence, barking and snarling viciously at the sergeant before being put down by his bullets. _Come on, keep it together, idiot._ The feeling of panic came back to him in a much stronger wave as he heard the sound of Portuguese shouts coming from in front of him. His aim was bad this time, but Gary managed to shoot a few of his attackers before moving forward into what looked like a maze. Out of the corners he encountered another K9 and his owner, which he put an end to as he heard Mactavish advise, "Roach, watch the rooftops! We've had a few close calls with RPGs and machine guns positioned up high!"

Gary shouted in surprise as he felt a bullet brush across his face, finally getting the message. He hid in another abandoned home as more gunfire took place outside. _Damn, these guys don't give up so easily._ While he was trying to find a good time get out in the open, his superiors were shouting at one another, saying how Rojas was in one location and then was in a different one the next. Gary eventually moved out of the house but remained behind cover as they started shooting at him once more. His heart was pounding through his chest, he could painfully hear it through his ears.

It was at that moment Gary could feel himself trembling. His sunglasses became fogged up from the heat of his tears. _Keep it together! Keep it fucking together!_ It was taking every ounce of strength he had to keep himself from giving in, seeing how he was in a tight spot that he couldn't get out of. He was outnumbered and outgunned. He barely felt any air fill his lungs as the thought of wanting to die right here and right now filled him with terror, but at the same time the thought also gave him a reason to relax.

"Roach, talk to me how far along are you?!" John questioned, his voice was almost static because of all the commotion happening on his end.

Gary gasped to say something and tried to make it sound like he was perfectly calm, but all that came out was, "Th-They're everywhere...! They're just all over the place...!"

"Say again?!"

"I-I... I can't... I'm fucked...!"

"Roach!" Ghost shouted, obviously sounded frustrated either with the young man or with the little progress they were making, "Bloody hell, don't let the militia pin you down for too long!"

"Ghost, you're not helping here!"

"I can't do it..." Gary said quietly, "I can't do it..."

"C'mon, mate," John began, "You've gotta push through. I'm counting on you."

 _What?_ A sharp and quick intake of breath finally got the sergeant to breathe again. _Counting on me? To do what? Stay alive? Catch up to Rojas?_

"Sir I-"

"You can do it, Roach. Just get your arse out of there."

Gary straightened up, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes, getting the air back in his chest. Within a few seconds, his eyes shot open and he ran around the corner, shooting forward at the men who had him pinned down. Though he was only focused on the men he could actually shoot, the ones on the ground for example. Though it was still difficult with the wound in his arm. Not only because he couldn't aim very well, but he was slowly losing blood which made his vision blurry enough to look like he was seeing through his tears.

He didn't know what had gotten into him. The mood of wanting to die was gone. His panic turned into fierce energy and now his mind was in focus of shooting through the hellfire. Mactavish kept advising how Rojas was heading towards Gary's direction. He ran up the hill, where there didn't seem to be any enemy activity. But he saw Rojas, trying to make a break for it. Before he could go for a shot, he saw John lunge out at him, taking both of them down but leaving Rojas with nowhere to go as he was pinned against the car.

"Frontrunner, this is Bravo Six," Mactavish began, "We've got the package. I repeat, we have got the package."

As the lieutenant called in for the chopper, John looked over at Gary, noting how despite being out of the hornet's nest, he was still shaking. The sergeant was glad he still had his sunglasses covering his eyes because they were still teary and shocked from the fact that he actually caught up with his superiors. John mouthed, "You good?"

Gary only nodded, swallowing hard now that he could clearly back to his early panic attack. _God, he's gonna interrogate me on that after he's done with this guy._

"Command's got their head up their arse," Ghost sighed, "We're on our own."


	6. Chapter Six

They had a few close calls with the militia, but there came a point where the sounds of angry shouts couldn't be heard anymore. Their back up arrived just to stay on guard and prevent further enemy activity. From there, Ghost could finally interrogate Rojas in peace. It didn't take long for him to talk. After many punches and when Ghost moved onto leaving scars with combat knife, Rojas finally screamed for mercy and only told them that the only guy Makarov hates is locked up in a gulag under the name, "Prisoner 627".

But with chaos already breaking out in America, they were on their own for finding out how they'd get back to base. It wasn't long ago when John just called an old friend of his; A pilot, and for hours they've been holding off militia for as long as they could. For the moment, they could take a break, and Ghost was trying to get any additional information out of Rojas. Every so often John would also glance back at Gary, who appeared to be messing with the wound in his arm. He couldn't tell whether if he was trying to get the bullet out or if he was just trying to make it worse. Maybe he was doing both. The medic wasn't present for this mission, so it would be a while until Gary could get any medical attention to his arm. John approached the younger man.

"How're you feeling, Roach?" John crouched down to be at Gary's eye level.

"I'm..." The sergeant was stuck on his words, but turned his pain into a chuckle, "I'm still alive. I mean aside from getting shot and... Heh, yeah."

"Did the bullet go through?"

"No. I think it's stuck in the bone or something."

John chuckled a little, "Well I doubt that. It'd probably be shattered by now."

"Oh, right..."

"Let me see it."

Gary held out his bloodied arm as John pulled out his canteen, pouring a little bit of water out so he could get a better look at the wound. He could feel the younger man tense up just a little bit, and Gary swallowed hard, "Permission to speak, sir?"

"Aye, what is it?"

He stayed silent for a moment before speaking, almost hesitantly, "I didn't _mean_... I didn't _want_ to freak out earlier."

As John tore off a piece of Gary's sleeve, he glanced back up, waiting for Gary to continue. He stammered, but he managed to say, "A-And... I don't know. I just feel like I owe you an apology for being such a wuss. I should've kept it together but instead I just set a bad example-"

"Mate," John silenced him, "It's fine."

"But-"

"You managed to pull through, sergeant. I know it was bloody difficult, but you're alive. _We're_ alive."

Gary wanted to say more, but the words he wanted to say were swallowed back as John tied the strip of clothing around the wound tightly. It caused him to gasp in slight pain, and when John was finished with his work, he heard a faint voice speaking into the comms, "John...? Come in in, this is Nikolai! I'm flying over your location now!"

"Is that our guy...?" Gary questioned.

"Sir, the militia are closing in!" The lieutenant shouted, loading his gun, "Almost two-hundred of them, front and back!"

"We're gonna have to fight out way to the LZ!" John pulled Gary up to his feet, addressing Nikolai next as he lead the team out of the favela, "Nikolai! We're at the top level of the favela surrounded by militia! Bring the chopper to the market, do you copy, over!"

"Okay, my friend," Nikolai answered, "I am on my way."

Gary found it odd, of how from the moment he saw the militia, he put his mind directly in the warzone when previously it was in a state of feeling absolutely numb. It was almost as if he completely forgot about the pain he was forcing himself to feel, it made him forget that he wanted to die. Though it was whenever they paused to run towards the market, it gave Gary time to think—

 _What the hell am I doing?_

 _Why am I still fighting?_

 _Why am I still alive?_

Already, too many of his teammates had been shot dead, and their bodies were left behind. They'd die knowing that their remains wouldn't make it back to their memorial service. The thought of it almost made Gary want to throw up, but be swallowed back the bile as soon as they shot down the last dozen men standing in their way. By the end of the firefight he was covered in dirt, sweat and blood (Some that didn't belong to him). Then flying over the market was a Pave Low, dangerously close to the rooftops. "There's Nikolai's Pave Low! Let's go!" John shouted as his remaining team ran through the empty market.

A flow of relief knowing they were going back to base filled Gary with slight relief. Though that feeling was ripped away from him as he saw RPGs and bullets being fired at the Pave Low. _Damn, and we were so close..._ "Nikolai! Wave off, wave off!" John shouted as he shot at the militia once more, "We'll meet you at the secondary LZ instead!"

The Pave Low flew off, followed by Nikolai's rich, Russian accent, "Very well, I will meet you there! Good luck!"

When everything was cleared up once more, Gary followed his team mates, only to see that their next plan was to run on the rooftops. As they ran across, the tin roofs felt weak enough that at any minute they could bend and break. "We're running out of rooftop!" Ghost shouted.

"We can make it!" John shouted, jumping to get to the other side of the rooftops where the Pave Low was waiting.

Gary inhaled as he was the last one to jump off, but only half of his body made it on the other side of the roof before it slid off. The sergeant was barely holding on, and when his captain reached out to grab him, Gary only managed to touch his finger tips as he felt himself falling away. Before he knew it, he fell to the ground, landing with a loud thud as he blacked out immediately.

* * *

"Roach! Roach! Wake up!" He could hear John's voice. He sounded almost so desperate for his team mate. Slowly, Gary came around, his vision blurry at first, but he could see the shadows of the militia, walking towards him.

"Roach, we can see you from the chopper!" Ghost's voice followed, "They're coming for you! Dozens of them!"

Gary gasped, his heartbeat pounding harder and faster than before. He had no weapon, and he was all alone. He quickly got up, almost falling back down as his captain shouted, "Roach, there's too many of them! Get the hell out of there and find your way to the rooftops!"

Quickly, Gary ran into a house before he got shot up, but even while running through places where the militia couldn't get him, the bullets shot through the walls. When he was out of the house he ran down an alley, almost running into a civilian trying to escape the fire fight. After traveling up a flight of stairs, he found himself on the rooftops once again.

"Roach! I see you!" Mactavish addressed, "Jump down to the rooftops and meet us south of your position! Go!"

"Gas is very low!" Nikolai said, sounding more than worried, "I must leave in thirty seconds!"

 _Oh god! I'm not gonna make it!_ "Roach, we're running on fumes here! You've got thirty seconds! Run!"

Gary ran out of absolute panic, dodging bullets as he found himself jumping down the rooftops. He could've sworn he twisted his ankle, but that didn't stop him as he slid down another rooftop, breaking a window on his way down. Soon he saw the Pave Low, its ladder hanging down. John stood at the opening of it, urging the younger man to hurry. Gary, now almost limping, could feel the anxiety worsen as he jumped for the ladder. He almost wanted to close his eyes because he thought he wasn't going to make it. But he felt his fingers wrap around the ladder, and the relief hit him once more as John notified,

"Nikolai, we've got him! Get us out of here!"

Gary sighed, out of breath as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. The first few things that popped up into his head, _Why did I run? Why didn't I die back there?_

"Roach!" He heard Mactavish almost laugh, "You're not just gonna hang down there for the rest of the trip, are you? Get up here!"


	7. Chapter Seven

Gary thought it would be odd when his orders were to clean out Royce's side of the room. But the reality, he actually found it depressing, knowing that Royce was dead and he was there when he saw him die. He knew the man only for a couple or few weeks, but one life lost still hits him harder than the bullet stuck in his arm. The belongings he packed up would be sent back to Royce's family along with an American flag. By now, Gary had cleared out the side of the room; The desk empty, the bed stripped of its sheets and blankets. His other team mates were given the same duty; To clean out the belongings of their fallen brothers.

As he let out a heavy sigh, a few gentle knocks on the door brought out the silence. Gary gasped, startled for a moment before he said, "It's open."

The door opened, and in came his captain, "How's everything coming along?"

"I just finished sir," Gary reported, "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"You just need to be ready in three hours. We've got a location on this Prisoner 627."

"Okay, sir. I'll get ready now."

Just as Gary was about to leave the room, John stopped him right where he was, "Roach... Stay for a moment, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

John pondered for a moment before inquiring, "What do you think you would've done? If I wasn't there when you... Broke down into that state of panic?"

Gary stared at him for a moment, feeling anxious as if he were supposed to give a right answer to this question. He swallowed, forcing himself to laugh, "I, uh... I have no clue, sir. I guess I'd be dead? Honestly, I really don't know what made me suck it up and get myself out of there, but I feel like you were part of the reason why."

John only nodded, "I see."

"But..." Gary pondered his words for a second or two before he said them in a way that wouldn't sound disrespecting, "Why did you tell me to get out when I fell into the alley? I was pretty much done for, but you and Ghost wanted me out of there... I guess I'm wondering why you didn't leave me behind, you know? You could've just left me... But you didn't."

The older man smiled for a moment, "No one can die from a fall that long, first of all. Second..." The smile on his face faded away, "Have you heard of the saying, 'No man left behind'?"

"Then what about those men back there? Our team mates, why didn't we-"

"They were gone, Roach. We only leave behind the ones we can't save. You, on the other hand, had a second chance, mate. How're gonna use it?"

The sergeant was about to respond, but all that came out was absolute silence. Gary swallowed the lump in his throat as Mactavish passed him by to leave the room, and he thought about the chances he's had many times before. He's had more than a couple chances to live, and all he wants is to waste them all until there's none left. Along with the thoughts of having second chances, a new feeling began to stir uncomfortably in his stomach. He was rather... Surprised. No, that's not the word he's looking for, he doesn't know what else would fit the category. Gary inhaled before recalling John's words that mixed around in his head. In other words, he knew his superior was telling him to keep fighting; To stay alive. It'd been a long time ago since Gary heard something like that, only it came out of the mouth of his mother. With that being said to him again, he didn't know how to feel. He didn't know whether if he should be happy, knowing that someone has lifted a pound off of his shoulders, or remain the way he was; A miserable man that's losing his own battle on the inside.

Then it occurred to Gary that John didn't tell him to keep fighting just because he cared. He said it because he's a fucking captain, and he can only assume that looking after teammates is in the job description. John didn't care. _No one_ did. All that mattered was his fighting spirit and his commitment to being a soldier. But for all he knew, it could be both. But he didn't know. Gary sighed, not wanting to know anymore as he left the room.

* * *

They were deployed somewhere out in the ocean, and their only mode of transportation was a submarine. There were two separate ones, and Gary found himself on the one with John. Joining them on this operation were the Navy Seals, and it was only a few hours until the reached their destination, and when they finally got there, their only objective would be to take out the SAM sites. A few hours really felt like a few minutes, since the team found themselves swimming towards the oil rigs. Even with thick wetsuits on, Gary found himself almost quivering as he could almost feel the bitter temperature eating away at him from the skin to the bone. It felt as if he could freeze right where he was, unable to move and go on with the mission. Yet he continued to move his arms and legs, slow and steady as he followed his team up towards the surface where he carefully swam towards a soldier guarding the oil rig on his platform. There were two of them, unaware of what would be coming to them as John gave his orders, "We'll take them out at the same time... On your go."

Gary swallowed, preparing his combat knife as he reached up to grab the Ultranationalist by his waist. The other guard across from him was pulled down as well, both having a quick end as Gary slit his guard's throat and pushed him down for the fishes to snack on later. Not long after, he emerged from the surface once more, being pulled onto the platform by two Navy Seals. Like the others as well, he pulled off his oxygen tank and other equipment that would most likely weigh him down on this mission. Once that was out of the way, he readied his gun and followed his captain one floor up on the oil rig. On the first floor, there was room in which John positioned himself at while a couple did the same with another entrance. As Gary followed their lead, he heard their Sub Commander advise, "Civilian hostages at your position, watch your fire."

"Roger that," John replied, "Team one moving to breach."

He nodded at Gary, a signal that he was ready when he was. The younger man exhaled silently as he quickly pressed a charge on the door, getting out of the way as the charge blew the door open within seconds. Gary burst ran in first, carefully aiming down his sight and shooting at those who weren't hostages. It was a quick task as the other men moved into the room, securing the men tied and gagged.

"Hostages secured in section Two-Echo," Mactavish notified.

"Roger that Hotel Six, Team Two will secure and evac," The Sub Commander replied, giving them more orders as Gary and John walked out of the room, "Continue your search topside."

"Okay, move upstairs. Control - we're advancing to Deck Two."

As they ascended further up into the oil rig, Gary was surprised as he caught himself spacing out into his own thoughts. They were nothing new. They were mostly thoughts of dying. _Later,_ Gary thought, _I can think of killing myself after this._ Though for him, it'd be some miracle if he were to get shot down on a simple operation like this. But it was a gut feeling that told him he wasn't going to die. Not today at least.

For now, he had a mission to complete; An assignment he couldn't let anyone down on.

After breaching the second room, a voice from one of the Russian radios spoke, "Группа пятая, ответьте на базу. Ваня, ты там? Отвечайте на базу! Мы отправим группу вниз-"

"I think we're going to have company, sir..." Ghost reloaded his weapon before standing up straight, John responding, "Set up for plan B. Get some C4s on those bodies."

Gary nodded at his orders, placing a C4 on a fallen soldier's corpse and following his XO out of the room shortly after.

"Get to an elevated position. We'll ambush them when they discover the bodies."

Gary hid behind cover as he heard distant voices get closer, preparing the detonator as he watched a small group of Ultranationalists look around their surroundings before one of them entered the room. "Plan B. Do it."

Gary squeezed the detonator before any of the Russians had a chance to give their next order. It didn't take long enough for this stealth mission to turn into absolute chaos as more Russians began to move into their position, and it didn't take long for everyone to wipe them out. Though all they could do was prepare for the mess that was about to happen as they moved forward and up to the next level of the rig. It was the very top, and before any shots were fired from the Seals and 141, the Russians threw smoke onto the platform, which shortly became a maze for Gary as he got caught up in the choking smoke. He felt himself being shot at once, but his bulletproof vest prevented the bullet from going into his body. After rubbing his watery eyes, he didn't even have time to think as he heard an angry shout coming from behind him.

Before he knew it, Gary felt an object being hit behind him, stunning him for only a short time, but long enough for him to turn around and shoot at his attacker. He fell back again, overcome with dizziness and pain. Though before he stood up, he heard Ghost advise, "Roach, I see you on my scope! Stay down! You're like a corpse to them!"

Gary stayed down, but rolled onto his stomach, switching to his pistol and knife as his secondary weapon. He stayed still, occasionally slicing and shooting at incoming Russians that were near him. He rolled into cover, grabbing a nearby ACR and getting back up on his feet as the smoke began to clear. By now, most of the enemies ahead have been wiped out, giving them access to breach the last room on this rig. Gary ran up ahead, waiting for his order to breach.

When he finally breached the room, he didn't have a chance to fire his weapon as a Russian soldier lunged at him with a knife, immediately impaling him in the left side of his abdomen. Gary gasped breathlessly as his fingertips almost went numb. He managed to shoot the Russian before collapsing on his side, watching as his teammates finished off the enemies in the room and secured the hostages. It wasn't long after when he heard a man scream, "We've got a man down!"

Gary was flipped onto his back. He saw John and Ghost in his view, before he looked up at the ceiling, completely out of it. But he squeezed his eyes closed at the pain thumping in his stomach. He felt a hand on his face, which felt numb to him as he looked up, John saying, "Don't fall asleep on us now...! We'll get you back...!" He turned away, calling for a medic as he picked Gary up and put his arm on his shoulder. Ghost did the same with the other side. Gary tried to keep himself quiet from making any sounds that indicated pain as he swallowed back the blood he tasted in the back of his throat. The sounds became muffled to him and his surroundings felt detached. _Am I going to die? Am I finally going to die after all this...?_

Gary almost tripped on his footing as he was handed off to Doc, who said something to him he couldn't make out. Before he said anything further, he saw Doc inject him with something that he thought was supposed to knock him out, but it only numbed the pain. _Morphine._ He took one last look at Mactavish, who said something that sounded like, "Hang in there... You'll be okay..."


	8. Chapter Eight

Gary found it painful to breathe in at first. It almost felt as if something heavy were being pressed against his entire body when he tried to move. He also felt cold, or at least his upper half anyway. When Gary opened his eyes, he immediately closed them, finding it too bright to see anything. But the energy in his body urged him to wake up, and after blinking a few times, he still saw that everything was white. A slow and steady beeping was heard and to Gary's discovery, he found out he was in the infirmary. He groaned, turning his head to the side so he could go back to sleep some more. But the weariness lasted for several seconds when he opened his eyes again, curious to know why he was in the infirmary in the first place.

But when he tried to sit up straight, he was met with agonizing pain that made him cry out a bit. Gary breathed heavily, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down his stomach only to see that most of his lower torso was wrapped in a tight bloodied bandage. The memories of the earlier mission flooded back to him, and it all clicked in for him. _Dammit, I should've been better prepared._ He made another attempt to sit up straight until he felt another pair of hands press him against the bed. Weak and in enough pain already, Gary didn't put up a fight as he heard Doc's voice saying, "Easy, easy. You don't want to get up just yet."

Gary sighed when he found himself laying on his back again, "How long have I been...?"

"For about 32 hours. It's midday now. How're you feeling?"

"I'm... I don't know. But the mission. What happened-?"

"They found the man they were after," Doc took a moment to sit down in a nearby chair as he began to fill Gary in on the details, "Prisoner 627. Turns out to be an old friend of Soap's."

Gary furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Who's Soap?"

Doc laughed, "Sorry. Mactavish. 'Soap' was apparently a callsign he had back when he was in the SAS. No wonder he kept it to himself. It's a pretty goofy nickname for a tough bastard like him."

"Yeah..." Gary was close to falling asleep again, but fought the weariness.

"But anyway, back to you," Doc cleared his throat as he sat up straight, "Your injury isn't too serious, which means you won't have to be bedridden for very long. You'll be on some strong painkillers, and you'll also need to clean your wound once in a while until the stitches can be taken out, but come to me if you think it's infected. Other than that, just try to take it easy."

"Thanks, Doc," The younger man forced himself to smile a bit.

"Anything you need me to get you?"

"No. I think I just... Need to sleep for a bit."

"Okay. Call if you need anything."

* * *

Gary was up and moving a week later. Before he left the infirmary, Doc gave him a bottle of painkillers that would last him a month or so, which he'd take one a day. So many thoughts went through his head from the moment he opened the bottle to see how many pills were in there. One would be enough to dull the pain from the wound. All of them would be enough to end his pain from living on this earth. Over the week of laying in the infirmary, the thoughts of wanting to die took advantage of him, and being bed ridden definitely wasn't helping. This time, those intruding thoughts gave him a complete understanding of why he shouldn't be living anymore. He's fought this war for too long, seen things that left so many scars on his mind than on his arm when he kept burning himself just so he could feel alive. He's tried to go on like any other soldier would, but it only seemed to tear a deeper wound in his flesh. It was just _too much_. Soon enough, the thoughts of wanting to die became a plan; A simple plan in which he knew would be successful.

Hidden in his drawer, Gary owned a .22 Caliber hand gun. Many times when he had breaks, he'd sit on his bed and turn the gun on himself, contemplating death. The only reason he didn't pull the trigger was because someone would always come to knock on his door, or there was one bit of positivity in his head, speaking in a tone that sounded childish, _"Things will get better."_

 _But things haven't gotten better._

After turning around the corner, Gary walked a few doors down and went into his room. He locked the door as the dead silence sent chills down his spine. He set the bottle of pills on his desk, next to his journal. Though that only reminded him of the empty pages behind the black, leather cover. He grabbed his journal, skimming through his entries until he got to the last one. It didn't say much. It was the day after his roommate was killed in action. _I'm so fucking tired,_ It said.

Gary turned to an empty page and teared it out. The first note really looked like a list for what he wanted at his funeral, where he wanted his organs donated (If any made it anyway), and where he wanted his ashes spread. He ended up crumbling that page, tossing it in the corner before ripping out another sheet of paper. But his second attempt at writing the letter only looked like a page with "I'm sorry" written over and over again. He sighed. The third attempt was a little bit more to his satisfaction. He folded it up, putting it on top of his journal and pushing himself away from the desk just a little bit so he could open the drawer under it. Sitting underneath a few papers, his unloaded handgun and next to it was a magazine full of ammunition. Gary pulled the two out, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. That little voice that said how everything will get better was no longer there. Silence would be the only thing accompanying him as he makes his way to heaven or hell. He knew he was finally ready to do this. No one could stop him. No one could save him.

As he shoved the mag into the Caliber, he breathed in, preparing for any further pain that might be ahead. He aimed the gun in a place that would be fatal, where he wouldn't miss. He put it right into his mouth and closed his eyes as his finger shook on the trigger. _Stop thinking. It's gonna be over soon._ Gary finally exhaled, squeezing the trigger.


	9. Chapter Nine

"This place looks more like hell than the one I left," John Price commented as he looked over at the wall covered in pictures of maps and men (Most of whom were innocent and dead). The map was covered in places they've conquered and blown up when it came to hunting down Makarov. Mactavish nodded, "Aye, we're scheduled for another hunt this coming week. Shepherd claims that Makarov's only hiding places are in the Caucasus Mountains and a boneyard in Afghanistan."

"Sounds like we've gotta be in two places at once."

"Impossible?"

"For your men, I'd say it'd be another day in the office."

"You haven't changed a bit, old man."

Price scoffed, almost amused at what he heard. "You seem to be in a better position than you were five years ago."

The Scot fell silent for a moment, swallowing a bit as he answered, "It was a long recovery. But yes. I'm... Content with where I am."

"Good to hear, son."

John's eyes almost went dark as he recalled his troubled past. Not only was it difficult looking up to everyone's expectations in the SAS, but he had a struggle of getting rid of the things no human being on earth should see such as killing men that tried killed others or in other cases, watching his friends die.

Somehow, he knew he could've saved them, but it was Price that taught him that all dead men can't be revived, but they can be saved depending on their situation. John held back a yawn as he closed his journal, looking at his watch only to realize it was six AM, "Bloody hell, morning already?"

"Heh," Price couldn't help but chuckle, "And by now I thought you'd be a morning person."

"Mm, well that hasn't changed, has it? Bloody Shepherd's got us working all night. He must be that excited to finishing that bastard off."

"Can't blame him there. I want Makarov dead more than anyone else."

John rubbed his eyes, "Well then, my men should be a perfect marksman for that job." He stood up, "They should be down at the shooting range now."

"At six AM?"

"They wake up at four, do warm ups, then spend the rest of the day training their arses off."

"Tough men," Price commented.

* * *

Though when they arrived at the shooting range, John was quick to notice that one lane was empty. Gary would normally be there to shoot, yet he appeared to be absent. Confused, John approached Ghost, and before he had a chance to ask anything, the XO began, sounding rather annoyed or pissed off, "Sir, Sanderson has not been here for roll-call, warmups, everyone assumes he's asleep, but how the bloody hell does he miss out on two hours?"

John was about to comment, but Ghost still went on, "I swear, I'm gonna force him to run around the base until he passes out. Maybe I'll make him do fifty pushups after each lap-"

"Easy, Ghost," The captain finally said, "We don't need to go that far for him missing just two hours. It's not like he does it everyday."

"But-"

"I'll leave him with warning. If he does it again, then we can talk about a brutal workout."

Ghost sighed, "Very well, sir."

John turned around, patting Price on the shoulder as he said, "You might as well throw in some of your shots too, old man."

"I've already got an eagle's eye, Soap," Price replied, "But I'll make sure these men have one too."

John left the range and headed to the barracks. Passing several rooms later, and he stopped right in front of Gary's door. He gave it a few gentle taps. There was no response at first, so he tried it again, this time speaking, "Roach, are you up?"

Nothing.

"Roach? C'mon, lad. You're late."

 _Is he not in there?_ John tried the knob, slightly alarmed when he found that it was locked. "Gary!" John raised his voice and knocked on the door loud enough for anyone to hear, "Gary, open up! This isn't funny!" The Scot swore he was five seconds away from kicking open the door, but there was no need for that as soon as he heard the lock click, and the door opened, revealing a worn out Gary. His hair disheveled, and his left eye was almost bloodshot. Under his eyes were grey circles, and he was still dressed in the same clothes he wore the day before. "Roach," John said, a hint of concern in his voice.

"G-Good morning, sir," Gary looked up, his voice weak as if he were sick.

"Bloody hell, mate. You look awful."

"Thanks..."

"Did you sleep at all? Are you feverish?"

"I had a bit of a rough night, I guess..."

"What's on your hands?" John's gaze went down on Gary's fingers, which were covered in some sort of black ink or powder.

"Oh, it's just gunpowder," The smile faded off of the sergeant's face, speaking in a tone that sounded disturbed or weary, "I was cleaning my gun in hopes that I could get tired and go to sleep, but... I noticed that the firing pin was missing."

John didn't know what to say at first. Gary looked horrible and that's all he could think about. Finally, he said, "W-Why don't you wash up? I'll see if I can find a firing pin that suits your gun."

"O-Okay, sir. It's still sitting on my desk."

Gary went to get a change of clothes before leaving his room. With him out of sight, John walked over to his desk, the .22 Caliber stained in gunpowder. Just as John was about to reach it, he noticed a note laying on Gary's journal, the folded front titled, _To Anyone Who Finds This._ John took the note, opening it up and already feeling his gut twist at the cursive words that were almost unreadable-

 _"I don't want to make this long, so I'll just get straight to the point. I'm sorry. I'm just fucking sorry. I know a lot of people expected better from me, but luckily they won't have to deal with that anymore. I'm gone now and out of everyone's way. I don't want my body to go back to my family. My dad hates me so he'd hate my ashes. Just... I don't know. Burn me and throw me in the trash I guess. I don't care anymore. I'm tired of fighting for nothing."_

* * *

"You mean to tell me that Sanderson could potentially be... Mentally unstable?" General Shepherd rested his chin on his hands as he listened to Mactavish's report. Price sat next to him, looking over the suicide note and swallowing hard for a moment.

"Yes, sir," The Scot nodded, "That note was sitting right next to his gun when he left to wash up."

"And he didn't carry this out because...?"

"The firing pin wasn't in there," He took a moment to reach in his breast pocket, pulling out a silvery pin and holding it up, "While he was still recovering from his injuries I got in there and took it out."

"So, you've suspected he's been considering to harm himself for quite some time?"

"Aye, sir."

Shepherd closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, captain. As for Sanderson, I would like to have Doc run an evaluation on him. But from there, we both know the rules. We can't have him out on the field if he's really in that sort of mind set."

John nodded, "Understood, sir."


	10. Chapter Ten

**For those who are sensitive to the subject of suicide, please don't read this chapter.**

* * *

"Ghost, did Roach come to the range by any chance?" John spoke into his radio as he and Price walked a steady pace to the barracks.

"No," Ghost spoke, "Another minute and he'll be skipping his morning meal."

John sighed, and Price glanced over, "Penny for your thoughts, Soap?"

"Mm... I guess I should've talked to him sooner."

"The lad?"

"Yes. Hell, I've known for so long, but his performance on the frontlines just caught me off guard. He's bloody good. But dammit... We can't send him back home."

"Why's that?"

"That'll only give him another chance to try again; This time he might actually have a variety of methods he could choose from to get killed."

"I see. But he can't stay here either. It's just... How it's always been, and I think it's better that he leaves so he won't have to fight this war. It'll probably break his mind even more to the point where it drives him insane."

Before John could say more, he stopped himself as they got close to Gary's room. The door was closed, and like always he knocked first. "Roach, you in there? We need to speak with you-" But he was cut off as he heard sounds of choking and gagging from the other side. "Bloody hell..." Price cursed as he also knocked, louder this time, "Lad, talk to us! What's going on in there?!" He tried the door, but found that it was locked. Both captains had a feeling of dread as they weird Gary wheezing and choking in there.

 _Oh lord, what did he do to himself?!_ It wasn't long after when Price's boot connected with the door, breaking it open was the ran in only to see Gary laying on his side, one hand on his throat and the other clutching the carpet below him. "Gary!" He crouched down to the floor, rolling the younger man on to his back as he ordered, "Price, fetch a doctor! Now!"

Price wasted no time running out of the room as the other captain tried to get Gary to look up at him. He was dripping in cold sweat as he shook from being cold. Along with being pale, his pupils were dilated, expressing absolute horror and fear. "Lad, come on," John made the younger man look at him, "Talk to me! Say something!"

Gary still had his hand on his throat, and he gasped breathlessly as he spoke inaudibly, as if to say, "I can't..."

John hugged him close in hopes that he could get warmed up from this, "Keep your eyes open. Price is getting a medic." Gary wheezed again, tears breaking from his eyes. "You'll be okay... You'll be okay..." John kept repeating quietly as he kept his eyes on the younger man, who shook almost violently in his arms as he struggled to breathe. His eyes gazed up to the ceiling, his vision blurred with tears and dulled with slight darkness. It was at that moment when Gary was hit with a series of images, and his mind was cleared enough only to think, _Life really does flash before your eyes..._

He could see through the eyes of his young self, but the first image he saw was a woman, grabbing him by his hair before shaking him violently as she shouted how worthless he was. This was his step mother, and the next thing he saw his father, removing his belt only to beat him down with it as he too said a series of words that rendered him useless and weak. Everything Gary saw were the things he wished he never lived through. _I've always been living in hell; I've always been living in this fucked up world since the day I was born._ His life flashed in white again, but this only brought him back to when his parents were shouting at him again. Gary could remember this day so clearly. This was three years ago when his dad told him to go enlist in the military. He didn't care what branch, he just wanted to reason to be proud of his son for once. Gary remembered, _This isn't what I wanted! I didn't want to be a soldier! I didn't want to fight! I didn't want any of this!_

His life flashed back to present day, and he saw it wasn't just Mactavish who was with him. There was Doc and... An old man who only assumed could be "Price" considering what John said. Next to his head was a horrid mixture which he identified as his own vomit. He knew that he must've thrown up unconsciously during all of this, and he could clearly see that it was a nasty combination of blood, bile, and pills. Despite being able to get some of the air back into his lungs, he still felt numb. He couldn't feel anything or hear anything being said. _Am I finally dying? Is that what's happening...?_ This felt a lot different than being stabbed in the gut. It was a lot more painful considering how his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and how he was unable to move after the handful of pills made his bones limp and heavy. The last thing he finally saw before falling into pitch black was an oxygen mask being placed on his face.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Although it was a relief to see his pulse beating on the heart rate monitor, it pained John to see the sergeant back in the infirmary for reasons he could've dealt with if he'd said something sooner. What held him back from doing it was that he didn't know if Gary would be serious. He had no experience on how he could help out a soldier that just wanted to die, but all that concerned him for the moment was on whether if the younger man would wake up. After hours of trying to stabilize Gary's condition and taking samples of his blood and vomit, Doc finally came out with the cause of his episode. It was indeed an overdose from methadone, and due the amount he had taken, it resulted in him being put into an induced coma. Doc predicted he wouldn't be asleep for long, and if he were to wake up, he would be able to determine how much damage has been done to his organs after the intoxication.

John had stayed by Gary's side for two days, and he showed no signs of waking up. His teammates were aware that Gary was in a state of temporary unconsciousness, but the reasons remained unknown to them. Shepherd knew though. It was no surprise to him, and he began to make plans for the sergeant's discharge. Since the attempt, Price had appeared to be deep in thought, though it was hard to read his eyes since he'd keep his gaze down at the floor. As John left the infirmary for his smoke break, he saw the old man outside, almost through with his cigar. He stood next to him, taking out one of his own and lighting it just as Price commented, "There're marks on his arm."

"What?"

"They're almost faded but... It looks to me that he was burning himself."

John stayed silent for a moment before sighing silently as it all made sense as to why Gary would wear those long sleeved button-down shirts, "You really do have a bird's eye for everything, old man."

"Mm, there was a lad fresh out of selection before you," Price dropped and stepped on his cigar as he continued, "He was young, probably a little older than Roach. He burned himself with his own cigar right in front of me. Of course I reported him to get evaluated, but on that evening his body was found hanging in his own room."

John shivered at the thought. _That could've been Roach. If we'd been late, he only place he'd be in is a body bag._ "There were others before him as well," Price continued, "But we were always minutes or even seconds away from saving their life."

"You must be bloody thankful we found Roach in the nick of time then?" John inquired.

"Yes. I don't know him well, but it's good to see him here than in his own coffin."

"You and me both, Price... Maybe he'd be fighting with you if I've done something more other than take the pin out of his gun. Hell, I could've said something too."

"Like I said before, fighting will only break him. But seeing him in this kind of condition, I'd say he's already shattered."

* * *

All Gary could see was white as he couldn't process anything for just a moment. He tried moving his fingers, which he felt them grip around something thin and soft. It took a long time, but slowly he began to feel again. He could feel himself breathing. He could feel a hand on his cheek, as if it were making him look ahead. Then, he could hear voices and a steady beeping next to him. It all sounded distant until it became clear as the vision of white began to flash. To his realization, Gary saw that the light was a small flashlight being shined in his eyes. Holding it was a man that looked familiar, but his thoughts were still muddled and blank.

"Gary...? Gary can you hear me?"

Gary finally blinked a few times before the light started to hurt his eyes. He closed them again and turning his head to the side as he groaned, wanting to lift his hand to rub his eyes but found it to be too heavy for the moment. "Hey, hey," He finally recognized it was Doc's voice, "Don't close your eyes on me now. I need you to stay awake."

 _Didn't I just get out of this place?_ When Gary tried to sit up, he almost laid back down. He felt Doc's hand on his back as he helped him sit up straight, "Gary? Hey, how're you feeling?"

"I'm... _Tired_..." Gary finally found the strength to lift his hand and rub out the weariness from his eyes.

"As expected." He paused and held out his hand, "Can you squeeze my hand?"

"W-Why...?"

"I just want to make sure you're functioning especially for being asleep for two days."

"Two days-?"

"Do what I asked and I promise I'll answer any question you have."

Gary sighed, finding it ridiculous that he had to do this. Shakily, he lifted his left and to wrap around Doc's, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it slip out, beginning to feel the weariness sink in his bones again.

Doc opened his hand out, "Now push." Gary did so, slightly annoyed.

"Okay, Gary," Doc picked up a clipboard and pen, "Do you remember anything before you went into a coma?"

Gary was even more confused. _Why the hell was I in a coma?_ "N-No... Everything's still a little blurry."

"Okay. Well, I really can't sugar coat this for you, but you tried to kill yourself."

"W-What...? No, I-I didn't- I don't know-"

"Easy, Gary. You just woke up, so a little panic is completely normal. But please, just try to stay calm."

"I am calm, but Doc, I don't remember anything I did before I ended up back here."

"It's okay. Maybe this can refresh your memory a bit?" Doc reached over at the table next to Gary and held out a note that appeared to be written in his handwriting, "Mactavish said you wrote this. Did you?"

Gary realized it was a suicide note, and he swallowed hard as that memory of writing it out came back to him. He nodded, not trusting his voice. "You overdosed on your pain medication," Doc explained, "When I got called in, you were choking on your own vomit and a couple of times your heart stopped beating."

Gary stayed silent for a moment, "Does everyone know?"

"Word got around quick that you lapsed into a coma, but I think they don't know about how you got into one."

"Fuck..."

"Gary, I'll need to do a full evaluation at some point. But for now, try to rest a bit, maybe get something to eat. You've been living off of an IV for two days so you lost a bit of weight."

Gary laid back against his pillow, "I think I just need to be alone for a minute."

"Okay. I'll inform Mactavish that you're awake, but I'll say that you don't want to be disturbed."

Gary only nodded, hesitant on saying 'thank you'. Yes, Doc did just save his life after all, but it's not what Gary wanted. He wanted to die. He wanted to end it all. With Doc out of the room, he could finally let a few tears slip from his eyes as he looked around the room. His fingertips were blue, his heart rate was seen on the monitor, and he could still feel himself breathing in and out, all signs that he was still alive.


	12. Chapter Twelve

It was a surprise to see that there was no damage done to Gary's organs, but when it came to the evaluation, it was revealed to Doc on how much damage was done the sergeant's mind. It was a long process, and the questions that were asked were endless. What Gary answered could easily be found on his medical records. He was clean off of drugs, never consumed alcohol, and has never been admitted into a hospital for any reason.

"Have you felt this way before?" Doc asked.

"I've always felt this way..." Gary swallowed, "Maybe for like... Ten? Fifteen years?"

"You were just a little one. Was it a bad family life? Poor environment?"

"Both."

"Would you mind telling me about that a little bit?"

"I can't..." Gary swallowed as memories of his childhood came flooding back. He could still feel the pain of having his hair pulled. He could still feel his blood and veins burn as his father's words stabbed him right in front. For some reason, he thought that those events were worse than the recent ones.

"That's alright," Doc said, "What do you feel comfortable sharing about how everything went downhill?"

The younger man could feel another lump in his throat as it all came back to his first operation. He was only nineteen, but he was incredibly skilled. "It was only a few months ago and..." He tightened his grip on the chair to keep himself from shaking, "I just watched everyone die right there, and they were people I could actually call my 'friends'... Right there when we were close enough to safety, it just went south and we got ambushed and there was just... Blood a-and guts and that shit was just... flying fucking everywhere-"

"Gary," The sergeant was snapped out of his flashback when he saw Doc's hand on his, "You can stop if you want to. You looked a little disturbed for a second there."

"O-Oh..."

"How did you feel after that? Was there anyone you could by any chance talk to?"

"No... No, they just... Acted like nothing happened the next day and I just had to go along with it. I thought it'd grow off of me, but it just fucking stayed and it got worse and no one cared. They just didn't. They just wanted me to fight. They just wanted me to... Soldier on."

"I see..." Doc wrote one last thing down before setting his clipboard off to the side, "Gary, I've still got more to ask, but right now I think you need to hear this."

"Hear what?"

"Well, we're not a bunch of emotionless robots here. There have been men like you as well. Some of them were unlucky enough to be successful at their attempt, others were fucking miracles," Doc continued, "Believe me, it's difficult to bring up this topic, but we're willing to listen. You can get help and bring yourself out of a better place than where you are now."

"I know... People say that. Like how they say 'everything will get better'."

"It takes patience, but it's true."

"I've waited my entire life for things to turn around. Look where that got me."

"All you have to do is wait, Gary. It can take a long time. But right now, you're sick, so you need time to get better. Maybe then, things can start to get a little brighter."

"Maybe..." Gary rested his elbow on the armrest and rubbed his head with his fingers, "Let's just finish this up already, then we can talk more about getting better."

It would be another thirty minutes until Gary was released from the infirmary, and he couldn't be alone from there. It was a requirement that everywhere he went for the next few days while he was still on base, someone had to be by his side for his safety so he wouldn't sneak off somewhere to make another attempt on ending his life. The sergeant was annoyed at first, but his annoyance was shortly replaced with a feeling of not giving a fuck anymore. Everyone now knew why he was under supervision. They knew why he was knocked into a coma. It was humiliating for Gary, but again, it was also irritating because they'd ask him if he was okay every goddamn time they saw him, and instead of the old "I'm okay" answer, he simply said, "No" before walking away. He wasn't allowed to go on the hunt for Makarov with everyone else, and instead he only worked out the arrangements for his discharge. It took no time at all, mostly because his evaluation results came out that he was indeed mentally unstable. No surprise to anyone. The last words he'd hear out of Shepherd's mouth one last time before he left was, "Thank you for your service, Sanderson."

* * *

Today was the last day he would be called a soldier. Gary was quick at packing his things into his large duffel bag. The only belonging he couldn't take home would be his gun. As he was cleaning out his desk, he looked back at his teammate, Archer, watching him. It was unsettling, and it always has been for the past couple days. "You don't have to keep staring at me like that, you know," Gary spoke, "It's not like I have anything to kill myself with."

"I know," Archer said, "But I can't let you out of my sight."

"So you'll even be there for the ride back to London?"

"No, mate. But I'm trusting that you won't try to sneak in the back and jump off the plane."

Gary sighed, just as another pair of footsteps was heard down the hall. Archer stood up straight as he saw John approach him. "Afternoon, sir."

"Shepherd wants everyone in the briefing room right now," John explained, "He just wants to explain the next plans regarding Makarov."

Archer nodded before leaving the room, and John's eyes gazed back on Gary, who spoke, "So your man wasn't at the safe house, sir?"

"He's a slippery bastard."

"So what'll happen then? Do you wait until the next attack or find anyone with any connections?"

"That's what Shepherd wants to discuss."

"I see..."

There was a short pause before Gary zipped up his duffel bag and stood up, walking out of the room for the last time and closing the door behind him as Mactavish spoke, "So what're your plans when you get back to London?"

"I dunno," Gary shrugged, walking a slow pace by his captain's side down the hall, "Get help? Maybe see a therapist?"

"I hope you're serious."

"I am... I'm gonna try, but if it doesn't work..." Gary paused, contemplating his choice of words.

"What're you gonna do if that doesn't work?" John inquired, raising an eyebrow and asking, "Should I be worried?"

The younger man finally shrugged it off, "N-No... No, I won't do anything. At least... Nothing that involves suicide."

The captain looked at him for a moment before sighing and turning to face Gary, "I hope things get better for you, mate. Find someone that'll help you. They'll listen."

He held out his hand, which Gary shook with a weak grip, "Thank you, captain..."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Four Months Later_

Gary kept his gaze outside as the snow fell gently on the ground. Despite being a civilian for four months now, it still felt as if it had not been long ago since he was out on the frontlines, fighting for his Queen and country. He was covered in scars that couldn't be seen, but he still fights the war that rages on within his head. But like he promised before he left Afghanistan, he sought out a therapist. He also found a small apartment he could call his home, and he lived across from a kind old woman that he'd talk to on some occasion, mostly whenever she came back from shopping for groceries that were always full of baking ingredients. Gary found it rather comforting to talk to her when he had the chance. He even told her about his service in the military, but left out certain details he knew she didn't need to know about.

Gary finally tore his attention away from the falling snow when he heard Dr. Anderson speak up, "Have you been sleeping well at all?"

"I've been sleeping fine."

"Eating enough?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't sound too convincing, Gary."

"That's because nothing's fine. The sleeping pills aren't doing their job. I still have the same damn dreams every night even if I do sleep any way, and I don't have an appetite for anything."

"Tell me about the dreams you're having."

Gary sighed, "I'm... I'm always on a battlefield, and I'm fighting with people around me. But they die. They always die and I have to watch them die the same damn way. Then it always ends with a nuke."

"I see," Dr. Anderson continued, "You know, death-related dreams aren't always a bad thing. It could mean something in your life has died only for something else to be born again. Does that make sense?"

Gary blinked, not convinced, "S-Sure. I guess."

"And before you go, I want to ask if you've thought about taking other medications."

"Like?"

"Well... Like just those that tame certain emotions such as your stress, depression, maybe you can look into better sleeping pills."

"I said I'll keep thinking about it. I just need more time."

"Four months sure did sound like a lot of time to think about it. Have you considered it at all?"

Gary didn't respond, and his therapist continued, "I'm just saying it might be worth looking into."

"Thank you, Anderson," Gary nodded, pushing himself off of the couch and making his way to the door.

"Same time next week then?"

Gary didn't respond as he closed the door behind him. He was glad to leave the small building and head outside. The cold air gently blew onto his face as the small snowflakes landed in his hair. Not too far away from him, there were children playing in the park, laughing as they built snow forts and and a small snowman. The radiation of their smiles burned Gary on the inside as he forced himself to look away and begin his short walk home. They all looked so happy, so _innocent;_ It was something Gary knew he could never have. His search for happiness was far away or never existed, and his innocence was taken away too soon.

To get to the apartment complex, Gary had to cross a bridge that stretched a few hundred feet in front of him, which was decorated in big bulbs of lights. It was high above the bitter cold water that was coated in thin sheets of ice; High enough that if anyone jumped, it would definitely be like landing on solid concrete. Gary would try not to look at the height. Not only because he's scared to death of them, but he didn't want to trigger any ideas. The thoughts of suicide weren't strong like they were before, but on occasion, he would fantasize himself jumping off the bridge he walked on once a week, and every vision he had he was successful at the jump.

When Gary had finally crossed the bridge, it was only a few minutes until he walked into his apartment complex. He lived on the second floor, but before he walked inside, he was once again stopped by a friendly greeting coming from the old woman, Jean, "Gary, my goodness! What're you doing walking in the snow?"

Gary forced himself to smile as he turned around to see Jean, "I just figured I'd take a short walk; Get a little bit of fresh air."

"You must be freezing your toes off by now, yeah?"

"No, not even a little."

They both laughed it off before Gary inquired, "So why're you going out in the blizzard then?"

"Oh, it's that time of day I go to play bingo. You know that, don't you?"

Gary nodded, trying to wave off his stupidity, "O-Oh, right. I forgot."

"You forget things very easily, dear."

"No. My mind's just clouded up for the moment."

"I see. Well, I'll be off then."

"Good luck, Jean. I'll see you soon."

Gary turned around and began to unlock his door, and until he heard Jean's footsteps disappear, he finally wiped the painful smile off of his face as he walked inside. He shrugged off his shoes and coat before continuing to proceed to continue his routine whenever he came home from Anderson's appointment or grocery shopping. He'd shower (Trying his best to resist letting his bathtub fill so he could drown himself), journalize his life as a civilian, and sometimes he'll eat before heading to bed. His showers were long and warm, and he'd always get some sort of comfort out of it because he always felt the chills giving him a feeling that he was just a walking corpse.

Later that evening, he stared at a blank page in his journal, his pen pressed against it but the words couldn't be written out. He ended up scribbling something that looked like a small tornado before closing his journal and leaving it on his desk. He switched off the lamp and walked over to his bed, relaxing as he hid under the thick covers. He was overcome with weariness so suddenly that he didn't have time to think of anything else. He was in a deep sleep within minutes, but it'd only be a matter of time before his sweet dreams would turn into nightmares.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

" _Roach! Eyes forward and keep moving! If those Russians were chasing us, you'd already be dead!"_

 _Gary could feel his legs stiffen as sprinted to keep up with his teammates. Out of all of them, he was by far the youngest and wittiest. Although being physical could be an improvement. As the cold rain poured heavily on his head, Gary felt every part of his body burning up painfully. He slowed down as he approached Trevor, the tallest and strongest of his team. The smaller man almost tripped but was caught as his teammate straightened him up, "Alright there, mate?"_

 _"I think I'm getting blisters..." Gary panted, slowing down a bit as his legs and arms ached._

 _"Aw, do you need me to carry you then, princess?"_

 _"Shut up, Trevor... I just can't wait to get back."_

 _"Don't we all?" The group of men dropped down from a short ledge and into a muddy swamp that went up to their waist as their captain advised, "Everyone move slowly, we don't want to attract any attention."_

 _"Like we didn't know before," Gary murmured to himself._

 _"Or you could be loud and let the bastards know we're here! Life or death, Roach?"_

 _"I'd like to live, sir."_

 _"Now if you don't have any other comments, you can shut your bloody trap."_

 _Gary remained silent as he moved slowly like advised, Trevor coming up behind him. For a full ten minutes, they moved through the swamp that reeked of algae and other natural scents._ Command will definitely think this will be a pleasant smell on the flight back _, Gary thought as he coughed a bit from the horrid smell. It came to a relief as soon as he saw that his teammates ahead were just making it out of the foggy swamp. But that feeling was ripped away when all of a sudden a shot rang out and echoed through the atmosphere as he saw blood and brains fly out from the man in front of him. It landed on his face, and his eyes widened as everything went into chaos within seconds._

 _"Ambush! Everyone move now!"_

 _Gary was almost shoved out of the way as Trevor ran passed him, and shortly after he followed. He knew he'd have plenty of time to slug his team mate later when they weren't being attacked. Right now, all that mattered to everyone was getting out of here alive. It was almost as if Gary forgot about the blisters on his feet because he was just sprinting for his life. He caught up to Trevor as the ground they were running on became filled with landmines here and there. With each explosive going off, it was a challenge to his balance, which he finally lost as, just a few feet away, he lost his hearing in his right ear for just a moment as another landmine blew up. He was numbed with pain in his side, looking over only to see a large shrapnel sticking out from his stomach and legs. "Oh god..." Gary coughed out blood as he felt a pair of hands trying to pull him back onto his feet._

 _"C'mon, get up!" Trevor grunted, "We're almost there-"_

 _He was interrupted as a bullet connected with his hand. He let out a painful scream, letting Gary fall to the ground again. Trevor looked down at Gary and back at his now-deformed-hand. "Oh bollocks-"_

 _"Trevor...!" Gary coughed, "Help me up...!"_

 _"Roach-" He had nothing else to say as he looked around him, half of their team mates already dead,_

 _"Fuck, I'm so sorry."_

 _He took off in the other direction, and Gary looked ahead in horror, "No...! Trev...- Don't leave me like this...! TREVOR!"_

* * *

Gary struggled for air as he breathed in a strained breath, his hand gripping his right side as if he were trying desperately to close up a wound. He was drenched in cold sweat, his heartbeat beating in his head. Gary could still hear the explosions and gunfire echoing in his head. He took his hands off his stomach, seeing how there was no wound to cover up. With shaky fingers, he raised his shirt just a little to reveal the first scar that was implanted on his skin a year ago. The dream replayed in his mind, and he could've sworn he was hallucinating the entire thing for a moment. He breathed again after realizing he wasn't before laying back on his pillow. He could feel a wave of nausea washing over his mind, and it gave him a reason to get out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom, just in time as a river of vomit came pouring out of his mouth. He only managed to hurl it up into the sink, and that's where he stood for a few minutes, maybe more than that. Gary felt fucking gross as he couldn't stop himself from puking. But the images of the things he's seen in this war kept urging him to do so until he was coughing and gagging nothing.

Gary swallowed as tears began to break from his eyes. He slid down to his knees, a shaking mess. He pressed his back up against the wall and just sat there, broken and mindless as his memories haunted him like a ghost. It was the voices that were really doing the haunting though; Voices of people from his past like his father, and hearing the last words he said before Gary left him behind, _"Don't you dare say anything else! You're leaving tomorrow! So pack your bags and for the love of God, give me a reason to be proud of you!"_

The young man found himself murmuring his thoughts aloud, murmuring things he'd say to his father now if he were here right now, "Are you proud, dad...? Look what they made me into... I'm... I'm..." His voice broke as more tears came out of his eyes, "I'm a _fucking mess_..." He dried his eyes off as he got up, leaning against the wall once more before going to clean the sink. He sprayed some air freshener in the bathroom in hopes to get rid of the sour and bitter smell. Then he washed his mouth out before changing into another pair of clothes that didn't reek of vomit. It was only six AM, but Gary was restless; Paranoid even from his own mind playing tricks on him. He kept thinking he was hearing the voices of his dead teammates; Hearing the words he's heard them say until he got up. He walked over to his door, shrugging on his boots and jacket then stepping out into the bitter cold.

For a while, he felt disoriented, almost as if were about to lose his balance and fall on to the snow. But he kept walking forward, some early birds giving him looks of judgement or concern. Gary didn't care. He knew he looked like shit. He began to cross the bridge that he walks on to go to Dr. Anderson's office, but halfway through his walk, he stopped. Gary looked over the edge. Some parts of the thin ice that were on the running water were splitting and sinking into the river. Unconsciously, Gary laid his bare hands on the snow railing, leaning forward and almost admiring the view. He looked around, seeing several cars running along the road. _They're just gonna pass._

Gary swung his leg over the railing before doing the same with the other, his heels now standing on the ledge. Everyone behind him kept passing. _No one cares. No one..._ He inhaled, his legs quivering as he couldn't take his eyes off the river. _How bad will this hurt? Will it be quick? Will my body be found?_

Gary breathed in again, looking up at the sky and seeing nothing but grey clouds. _That's the last thing I'll see. No sunlight. No color. Nothing._ He exhaled before looking down, closing his eyes and trying to relax. _It'll all be over soon..._

Before he could lean forward and end it all, he could hear a voice behind him, "Oi, mate? Are you okay?"

 _Ignore him. Just jump._

"W-What're you doing? You're freaking us out." It was a woman's voice this time, and Gary's grip on the rail tightened, almost as if he were trying to stay on.

 _No... They don't care... They're just asking, then they'll walk away..._

"Sir, please! Just- Just come over here!"

Gary squeezed his eyes closed.

 _Fucking jump already! They don't care-_

Before Gary could feel panic take control, he finally leaned forward. A woman's scream could be heard from above as he fell for only a few seconds before hitting the water, breaking through the ice like glass. He felt nothing as he sunk under the water. He was absolutely numb and he could see his own blood coming out of his mouth, the last thing he saw before he drowned in his own darkness.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

All he could see was black. He could feel numb, and it felt like he couldn't breath at all. He could feel a throbbing pain throughout his body as he found that he couldn't move. Every part of him just _hurt_. He was also cold; So _fucking_ cold. He could hear voices that sounded distant at first, but all became clear when he unconsciously puked up water, his eyes opening as well. He still couldn't breathe as he was overcome with a episode of violent coughs.

"Oh thank god! He's breathing!" A woman's voice cried out.

Gary recognized the voices; The ones telling him not to jump. Now he could finally see them in his view. They were underneath the bridge from where he jumped. The man took off his jacket before putting it around Gary, and from there he held him close, asking the woman in front of him, "Did you call them yet?!"

"They say they're sending paramedics. They shouldn't be too far now."

 _No... No. Why? Why am I still alive? Why am I still here? I'm supposed to be dead!_

Gary attempted to break away from the man's grip, but found that he couldn't, seeing how he was a lot more stronger than he was for the moment. "Easy, mate. Just relax. You'll be okay."

"Please let me go...!" Gary demanded, his voice strained.

"No, you're hurt! Are you mad?"

"No... I just... _Want to die_!" Gary tried to get out of his grip again, and struggled more than before. This time the woman helped hold him down, telling him to calm down. But Gary was ridden with adrenaline that he only wanted to use to get back in the water and drown. His struggles to get out were useless as he felt he was in too much pain to do so. He was _weak_ and _powerless_ , yet he still found himself continuing to break out anyway. Though the woman's grip moved off of him, and he lunged forward only to be pushed all the way on the ground. To his realization, the paramedics were finally here.

He painfully shouted for one of them to get off, but he knew that wasn't happening when he felt the tip of a needle being pushed into his neck. His energy was slowly being drained as he felt the drug being injected into his veins. The world became blurry as Gary struggled to stay awake, but all he was greeted with was a world of black.

* * *

Gary knew he wasn't in heaven when he opened his eyes to a white room. He wasn't in any sort of afterlife when he felt a rather comforting atmosphere. But he knew he was still in a living hell when he heard his pulse on the heart rate monitor. He attempted to move at first, but became terrified when he found that he couldn't. _Oh fuck, what if I'm paralyzed?! What if I'll never walk again?!_ To his relief, he felt that he could still sit up just a little only to see that his wrists and ankles were strapped down. That was when the relief was replaced with a mix of confusion and anxiety. He attempted to break free, starting by tugging his wrists through the restraint. Though before he could struggle anymore, he stopped as an old man in a white coat walked over to his side with a journal and pen in his hands. "Good afternoon, Sanderson," He began, "It's good to see you're awake."

Gary didn't respond. He just wanted his doctor to start explaining things. "I'm Dr. Harrison, and from what I've heard, you jumped off a bridge and fell... Maybe two hundred meters into the water? As a result, you've only managed to break every rib on your rib cage, witnesses said you tried fighting back once out of the water-"

"How did I get out?" Gary interrupted, "Who got me out of there?"

Dr. Harrison began, "There was a homeless chap underneath that bridge. He's lived there for quite a while and from what he told us, he said he dived in just to save you. By the time he pulled you out, you weren't breathing. Good news for that man is that he found a place to stay dry for once. He's out of the cold, eating a full meal."

"What's the bad news then?"

"Well there is none. What's better is that you survived that fall. If you ask me you're a bloody miracle."

Gary shook his head in disbelief, before asking, "How long do I have to stay here? Do I have to be strapped to this while I'm here?"

"It's just to take precaution. I know you're hurt, but you're also suicidal. This is just to prevent you from doing any sort of harm to yourself again."

Gary scoffed but said nothing else. "Normally we let patients loose in a few days. But since you broke your ribs and you appear to be mentally ill, it may be longer."

"You're not giving me an option in this are you?"

"We only want to help you, Gary-"

"What if I don't want help?"

"So you're saying you'd rather die than get another chance at life?"

Gary opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What Harrison said was a lot similar to what he heard before; Similar to words that came from his former captain. He remained silent before letting out a heavy sigh.

"If you don't have any other remarks, I'd like to ask you a some questions before I leave you on your own."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Update: I just realized I was sort of a dumbass when I first wrote this chapter. Thankfully, after doing a little research on the schooling system in the UK, I managed to fix up a small part of this chapter lmao**

* * *

It would be another two weeks until Gary was moved down to the psychiatric ward, where the recovery for his mental stability would begin. Not only did they have him on pain medication for his ribs, but Harrison also prescribed him serotonin and other antidepressants. On the first few days he took them, Gary grew sick with nausea and drowsiness he couldn't handle, causing him to remain bedridden even more. It felt as if the medication melted his insides because Gary spent almost a whole day bent over a trash can, puking until eventually he was spitting up nothing but blood. He felt disgusting afterwards. He smelled like bile and he never got a chance to shower yet. A damn shower would sound nice right now, but Harrison didn't want him out of his sight. He wanted Gary to talk and spill out every memory from the moment he was born. It was annoying to the younger man, but for his doctor, he could see why details of his past might connect to how he got molded into a giant mess in the first place.

"Tell me about your life in the military," Harrison inquired.

"Wasn't my choice to begin with," Gary looked out at the grey skies, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.

"How long have you been serving in which branch?"

"Been in the Army at first, but I later was selected to be in two special groups. I only fought with them for several months. "

"Wow... You were only sixteen then, yeah? Fresh out of school?

"No shit."

"Now, why did you enlist if you didn't want to that kind of job?"

"I didn't want to be a disappointment to my father. That was the life he wanted me to live."

Harrison nodded, pondering for a moment before continuing, "Say that you cut your dad out of the picture. You had your own choices. What would you do?"

"I don't think that'd change. I grew up thinking I was worthless so I might as well want to be dead."

"Is that still something you want?"

Gary glanced at the floor, then back outside, "I dunno... Everything in life wants me to live, but I've put up this fight for too long and I just want to end it."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

Gary was about to make another remark, that was until the old man had more to say, "Now, Gary. I have much more to ask, but instead of being cooped up in an office with I think you should go to the group therapies here, maybe try to have some sort of interaction with the patients. You'll be surprised at how broken they are. A few of them are just as broken as you... But before you do that, why don't you wash up?"

 _About fucking time._

A few minutes later, Gary followed a nurse to the shower rooms. On the way over she asked him if he was doing any better, which Gary replied, "I guess." He went into an empty a stall, tugging at the threads of his shirt, but stopped when he saw that the nurse was still there, leaning against the tiled walls and just... _Watching_ him.

"A-Are you just going to stand there...?" Gary felt a rise of panic for a moment.

"I hate to say 'yes'," The nurse said in a sympathetic tone, "But it's why these rooms are always empty."

Gary swallowed hard. After a few seconds of hesitation, he continued to disrobe anyway.

* * *

"I've always been a toy to everyone..." The patient said in a sorrowful tone as she stared down at her hands in her lap, "To my dad... To my uncles... My brother included... I've got friends to help me through it, but I didn't want to sleep without having to dream of playing those games that they called 'fun'."

Harrison was right. As Gary looked around, these people had the same damn look in their eyes; Looks of people who were battling with their struggles that have pushed them far enough to be admitted or committed into the psych wards. There were three men. One was a schizophrenic, the other was a drug addict, and the last one was an old veteran paralyzed waist down. The woman, who was just now sharing her story, had been sexually abused for a majority of her life. There was another woman as well, who had an antisocial personality. She had only shared a few words before shrinking up; Her body language obviously stating that she didn't want to be here or talk to anyone. Yet she still wanted a bit of comfort as she held onto the therapist's hand the entire time. Then sitting across from Gary was a Vietnam veteran who sat in a wheelchair, paralyzed waist down.

"I know what it's like," The schizophrenic man began, "You know, being tortured by people who're supposed to love you and support you. But all I've ever gotten was a slug to the face while being called childish just because I kept seeing ghosts in my closet. Even now they call me a little wuss because I either see pictures talking to me or... J-Just anything out of the ordinary. But I can't stop it. Who can when you're born like this?"

"Hey, lad, you've been quiet for a while," The veteran next to Gary poked at him, "You want to say anything? What makes you like us?"

Gary was silent for a moment as he stared at his hands, which were holding onto each other as he thought of what to say. "I'm sick," He finally said, "I'm sick in the head. I want to die. My life is just... I hate it."

"We all feel you there. Can you tell us more?"

He hesitated on sharing as his memories of taking a handful of pills and jumping off the bridge began to strangle him up. "I-I... I tried to die. Twice," He said, his voice choking for a moment, "It just... It didn't work."

"I've made two attempts like you, lad," The old man began, "The second one is the reason I need to spend my life in this damned wheelchair."

 _Oh god. That could've been me._ "I think you're bloody lucky you didn't end up like me," He continued, "You have a lot to be grateful for. Especially for the fact that it didn't kill you."

"I'm not though," Gary said, "It just makes me wish I didn't survive because now I have to keep living. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I can walk and function... Because then I can try again."

Due to the last few words he said, Gary had to stay in the hospital for another week. By then, Hanukah had passed for him, but it didn't matter since he had no one to celebrate it with, which was another thing he shared in the next group therapy (He was surprised that everyone in the small group could relate). His discharge was scheduled a few days after the new year. Gary was tired and he was ready to get out of the psych ward (Especially away from Dr. Harrison). Before he left, he spent his last few hours in the common room, where other patients interacted and ate their meals. He isolated himself as usual as he stared out the window. Everything was covered in snow. Everything just looked... _Bitter_ and _cold_.

"So you get out of here today then?" An old raspy voice inquired.

Gary was almost startled for a moment when he turned around to see the veteran.

"Yeah," He replied, looking away to indicate that he didn't want to have a conversation.

"What're you gonna do when you get out?"

"Dunno... Why does it matter to you?"

"Are you going to try again?"

Gary hesitated, "I told them I wasn't."

"But are you?"

The younger man shook his head, "Dunno..."

The veteran gave him a look before saying, "Look at me, son."

Gary sighed silently through his nose before looking at the old man. "If you consider it, take a look at me,"

He said, "You survived two attempts. If your third one doesn't go according to plan, do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this?"

Gary didn't respond. He really didn't get a chance as the veteran wheeled himself away.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Hey, so I'm sorta re-doing these last two chapters because I really wasn't satisfied as I re-read them, so I'm just gonna fix them up a bit.**

* * *

They called a cab for Gary as well as lending him a bit of money to pay the cab driver. It was surprisingly a long drive home as it took almost fifteen minutes to get the bridge from where he jumped. Gary had to close his eyes as they drove across it, not wanting to relive that painful memory. "It's just around the corner, right?" The driver said.

Gary opened his eyes and looked at the man in through the rearview mirror, "Yeah, just turn left there."

The driver did as he was told, and parked in front of the apartment complex. Gary paid him before getting out, walking a few apartments over until he got to his. Jean wasn't there to leave the door and start a conversation, which he was thankful for. He didn't want to talk about his absence away from his dorm. He was just tired, and immediately when he went inside, he laid full length on his sofa, dozing off to sleep and not bothering to shrug off his boots or jacket. Though minutes later, he found that he was unable to sleep any longer. He found himself staring blankly at the wall, not even blinking once. Restless, he got up, shrugging off his boots and jacket before changing into something a little more cozier. From there, he did whatever he could to keep himself busy and maybe tire himself out.

Gary looked in the fridge, but saw that most of his food was rotten over the weeks that he was gone. He cleaned the entire thing out, having nothing left over except for a half-empty bottle of water, which he took in finished off. But as the water filled his empty stomach, he became overwhelmed with nausea, almost dizzy as he gently seated himself on the kitchen floor. He felt sick. He _was_ sick. He planted the palms of his hands on his head, groaning softly as he attempted to dull out his headache. He sat there for what felt like an hour or more, and when he decided that he's been sitting on the floor for too long, he got up and went to the bathroom to shower off his weariness. Though as the warm water touched his head, he was almost attacked with anxiety as he suddenly looked around the bathroom, thinking he was being watched by a doctor or someone that made sure he wouldn't kill himself. He still wouldn't forget that, which was another reason he wanted to be out of that hospital.

He tried to relax and think he was alone, but he still had a feeling of being watched. He ended up showering for only five minutes, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat better. He tidied up the rest of his apartment before going to lay back down on the couch. His stomach growled in agitation, as if it were begging for more than just water. Although Gary had promised the doctors he'd eat more, he didn't move a muscle as he slept longer than before. When he woke up to the sound of his beeping watch, he saw that it was six PM. _Time for my meds, I guess._ Reluctantly, he pushed himself into a seated position, reaching for the television remote and turning it on just for some background noise before getting up and walking over to his medicine cabinets. He took out three bottles, all of which would treat his incurable depression or keep him calm for the most part. As he took one pill at a time, his eyes gazed over to the television screen, and the first thing he saw on the headlines of the news channel were capitalized letters that read out: _THE WAR IS OVER!_

* * *

Gary was restless for the next couple nights. Not only because the people on the streets were still celebrating to the end of the third world war, but because so many thoughts roamed his head, both concerning his former teammates and suicide. Mostly, he'd wondered who survived and returned home to their families, and who returned only to be mourned. Gary rolled onto his back so he could be looking up at the ceiling. His entire body was itching for some kind of movement. But he only got up to take more sleeping pills, more than he took before. They weren't kicking in like they normally would. It only seemed to make him a little more antsy. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was only nine-thirty PM. He got up and got dressed before walking out into the bitter cold.

There was a hotel just a couple blocks away from his complex, where it's said to be the highest building in that area. Gary knew (He _just_ knew) that he wouldn't fail once he took flight. Though as he crossed the street along with several other pedestrians, a new feeling began tugging at him, literally. It was almost as if this feeling was holding him back from he was about to do, and it was _strong_ ; Stronger than the feeling telling him to fly. He kept walking on anyway, and at one point he stopped. At one point, he felt a rise of panic building up in his stomach. It came all too quickly to him as foreign thoughts started raiding his empty mind. _I don't want to die! I don't want to die!_ He thought repeatedly.

 _No. Why am I thinking like this?_

His fists tightened in his pockets as he forced himself to keep moving, but the thoughts kept hitting him until he finally submitted into what he was feeling. He _didn't want_ to die. But he was in so much pain at the same time that even his medication couldn't make him feel whole again. He wanted to _end_ it. He _needed_ a way out of where he was. He finally got to the hotel, his hesitation growing as he approached the door. But as he laid his hand on the handle, he came to a sudden stop. He trembled both from the cold and from his anxiety boiling up inside. It felt as if he lost control as he couldn't bring himself to open the door, and a strong feeling tugged at him, urging to turn around and forget he wanted to attempt this, which made him almost on the verge of tears as he now found himself caught in between two decisions.

Gary looked up at the height of the hotel, the flurries of snow falling onto his face as he did so and backing away to get a better look at where the top was. Then he looked around at the people passing by, crossing his arms as he thought, _How many people would scream if they suddenly saw me land on the concrete?_ His eyes gazed down to the ground, as if he were imagining what his corpse would look like on the cold ground. He couldn't get the image though, and the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. Looking up at the sky again, Gary sighed, shaking his head. _Maybe another day._ With that thought in mind, he turned around, heading back the way he came. Though he couldn't make it a few steps as he stopped again, only this time it was at the sound of his own name, "Gary?"

He turned to the voice of the person only to be looking into the eyes of his captain, who was dressed warmly, leaning against the wall as he held a cigarette between his fingers.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

"So you're going back to Scotland?" Gary asked after he exhaled a breathful of smoke, "When?"

"Probably next week," John replied, "If not I'll be staying here for quite a while."

"I see."

It was strange of the younger man to see John Mactavish outside of military environment. It was sort of like seeing a friend outside of school. Minutes ago, they settled outside the hotel, where they both smoked a cigarette which also provided them some warmth. Gary had hoped it would calm him down in a sort of way. While it did, his mind was still switching back and fourth between going back to his apartment or going up to the highest level of the hotel. He's learned that most of everyone in the 141 were going home all except for Price and Ghost, who were going to stay at the base for a while and take in new recruits, mostly rangers since they've proved to handle themselves well during this war.

"Have you been doing better?" John asked.

Gary hesitated, "Oh, erm... Yeah. A lot better."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm..."

"What's different now than before?"

"Mm... Well I guess it is a little less 'hellish' than it used to be."

John obviously knew that tone of voice was forced, and Gary knew he sounded absolutely fake. The older man tilted his head, "Is everything actually going better for you? Be honest."

Gary bit his lip, and after a paused moment, he finally replied, "No... Not at all actually. I've been sick, I'm on medication that isn't working... Nothing isn't really getting better, and I don't know when things are actually gonna, you know, get 'better'."

"I understand, lad..."

Gary noted how John's blue eyes seemed to appear darker than before at the moment he said that. _He couldn't possibly know what it's like to want to end your own life? Can he?_ Gary was careful on how he said his words, and he swallowed thickly before asking, "You do?"

John's eyes wandered the public for a second, as if he was making sure that no one was too close to them. Then he dropped the cigarette, snuffing it out beneath his boot before rolling up his coat sleeve and taking off his watch. On the palm side of his arm, there was a huge, faded scar that stretched horizontally across his wrist.

"Bloody hell," Gary's fingers hovered beside John's hands, but didn't touch the scar, "That must've been one nasty wound."

"Worst part is I have to live with it," The Scot replied.

The younger man probably knew the answer to how his former superior got this scar, yet he still inquired, "How did you get that?"

John glanced up for a moment, visualizing a painful memory, "I was a little older than you, and at that time I still served in the SAS. We were out on an operation and... You could say I was rather 'mentally unstable'... But long story short, I ended up cutting my wrist open and making it look like it was an injury from combat."

"Oh my god..." Gary covered his mouth for a moment, "How did you...?"

"Price caught me just in time when I did that to myself. That old man's stayed with me the entire fight until we were able to reach a medic."

"Wow..."

"Everyone simply saw it as an injury from the operation itself, and that's the only reason why I still served."

"What about Price?"

"I told him not to worry. That attempt would be my last one."

"And five years later here you are," Gary snuffed out his cigarette as well, "You're a pretty damn good captain."

John smirked to return that compliment. After that, the two stood in silence for a minute or two before Gary spoke up, "S-Sir- I mean uh... J-John?"

"Yeah, lad?" The older man couldn't help but chuckle at the mix of words that came out of Gary's mouth.

"Um, listen I was just wondering..." The younger man could feel anxiety bubbling inside of him, hesitation driving him insane before he spoke, "C-Can I... Just stay with you f-for a while?"

"Stay with me-?"

"I just... I've spent too many nights alone, and... Being on my own since I got discharged really wasn't exactly the best idea and... I feel like I'm just gonna do something _incredibly_ stupid, and you know I don't want to do anything regrettable..." Gary's words trailed off as he felt a ball of emotion in his throat. He didn't know how to put the rest of his request into words without bringing up his third plan for suicide.

"Of course," John nodded, speaking in a tone that sounded empathetic, "I rented out a room here. You can stay for a while if you want."

Gary inhaled through his nose, before replying almost in a whisper, "Thank you..."

* * *

"So... Do you have family back in Scotland?" Gary questioned, new curiosities popping up in his head since he walked into the room where John would be spending the next several nights.

"There's just my mum and sister," John answered, "They're very clingy and they're thrilled to hear I'm coming back soon."

"Well, at least someone's happy to have you back."

John seated himself on the edge of the couch, not too far from Gary as he inquired, "Don't you have someone who's worried about you?"

"No..." Gary chuckled, "No one at all. Unless you count my therapist, but we're not close."

"When do you see him again?"

"Next week... Like always. I... Have a lot of things I need to update him on."

"Such as...?"

Gary was silent as he choked on his words, but when he looked at John's blue eyes, he could see that they were full of trust and understanding. Gary rested his chin on his palm, "Um... I've still wanted to kill myself... But because of that I ended up being committed into a mental hospital, and um..." Gary could feel his lids grow heavy as his memories of staying in that place began stabbing him in the eyes and throat. _No. Don't fucking cry._ "It was just... _Awful..._ " His voice broke right there as a tear escaped his eye, "They had someone watching me sleep, someone watching me shower and... I've never felt so _violated_." John was silent, but he could feel the heartbreak in Gary's words as he continued, "They strapped me down to bed and... I wasn't even doing anything...! I don't know what I said that made them do that...! I didn't want that to happen... _I just wanted to die_..."

"Oh, lad," Was all John could say as the younger man continued to cry.

After a short few seconds of weeping, Gary dried away his tears, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to break down like this. I... Should probably go now-"

But before Gary could get up, he felt John's hand on his, the older man questioning, "And what're you going to do when you leave?"

The younger man looked at him, "I was just going to go home-"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not..." He was taken back by the look in John's eyes. He wasn't going to let Gary out of his sight unless he knew he was going to wake up if he fell asleep. "I was..." He finally broke as he crumbled into a mess of sobs, "I don't know... I don't know if I should just jump off this place or..." John, as he still held onto Gary's hand, pulled him into his arms, and Gary just sobbed as he felt a warm comfort he's never felt before, and it only made him shatter. He didn't know how to react to being handled so... _Gently_ , and from this comfort, he began to feel _whole_. He was so used to living with a hollow chest that he didn't know how to react. It felt _good; Pleasuring_. But it only made him wonder why he was getting it; Why would someone waste time on a person that's already broken?

"John..." Gary cried, silently thinking to himself if this was real or the best dream he's ever had.

"I'm here, lad," John whispered, "I'm here."

The younger man quivered violently as he tried to breathe again. Then he sat up a bit and spoke, "John... I don't... I don't want to hurt myself anymore..." He didn't know what had gotten him into saying that. One minute ago, he was going to leave and jump off the roof of the hotel. But instead, he's still in the arms of John Mactavish, being held in his comfort as the thoughts of suicide melted away. At this very moment, all he thought about was needing to stay. He needed the comfort; _Needed_ it so badly and he couldn't tell whether if his insides were shattering or were still adapting to the feeling. It was new to him since he was so used to being cold; Used to getting shoved, slapped, kicked, etc.

John's hands moved up to the sides of Gary's face, using his thumb to brush away the incoming tears that came rushing down his cheeks, "I don't want you to either."

Gary tried breathing again, his eyes gazing down as he brushed away his tears with his fingers. "I don't know what to do... I don't want to keep feeling this way but... How can I...?"

"Hang on..." John made him look back up, "Just keep hanging on, and don't let go... I won't let you go through this on your own, but it's up to you to get out of the pit you're in."

Gary nodded, sniffing as he steadied his breaths, though within seconds he was filled with doubt, "I don't know where to start..."

John hugged him again, "Just take it nice and slow. But for now, start with a smile."

* * *

 **Update: Maybe I'll add an extra chapter/epilogue, but on the other hand I'm a little more satisfied with this ending than the last one. Hope you liked it too.**


End file.
